KIHRAK  V 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

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"DRIFTINGS 


—IN— 


^DREAMLAND 


POEMS 


— BY 


JEROME  A.  ANDERSON 


THE  LOTUS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

1170  Market  Street, 
SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAI.,  DEC.  25,  1894. 


COPYRIGHT,   1894, 
BY    JEROME    A.    ANDERSON, 

I  I  70  Market  Street, 
SAN  FRANCISCO,    -     -     CALIFORNIA. 


INTRODUCTION- 


In  presenting  this  little  volume  of  poems  to  the  public,  the 
writer  makes  no  claim  to  the  distinction  of  being  a  great,  or  even 
a  minor,  poet.  He  believes  from  the  very  depths  of  his  being  that 
all  men  are  alike,  and  one,  in  essence  ;  and  therefore,  that  all  have 
the  poetic  faculty,  either  actually  or  potentially.  To  demonstrate 
this  by  striking  a  few  chords  to  which  the  humblest  and  lowliest 
hearts  can  respond,  the  collection  is  published.  The  poems,  al 
most  without  exception,  were  written  while  the  author  was  quite 
young.  Since  then,  other  work  for  humanity  which  seemed  more 
imperative  has  caused  the  cessation  of  any  poetical  attempts. 
Whether  these  youthful  poems  will  ever  be  justified  by  the  better 
work  of  maturer  years,  depends  upon  that  other  work  assuming — 
or  seeming  to  assume — a  relatively  lesser  importance.  But  the 
writer  believes  there  is  sufficient  merit  in  this  volume  to  justify 
its  publication;  else  it  would  uoc  be  done. 

A.  ANDERSON. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

Reincarnation r 

In  Shasta's  Shadow *9 

Rachel 22 

At  the  End 23 

Fate 25 

Reminiscor 2^ 

Rest 26 

Faith 27 

Eternal  Patience 27 

My  Creed 28 

SEA  SONGS. 

The  Southern  Cross 31 

Sunset  on  the  Golden  Gate 32 

At  Sea 34 

Sunset  at  Sea 35 

IN  DIALECT. 

In  the  Drift 39 

Fisherman  Job 4° 

Aunt  Beulah 43 

Only  Joe 45 

Eliab  Eliezer 47 

Laborer  Mike 49 

LlSSA. 

Part  1 51 

LlSSA 

Part  II 65 

MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

The  Old  Homestead 79 

Culpa  Mia 85 

In  the  Churchyard 86 

Promise 88 

In  Memoriam 88 

The  Echo 9° 

The  Country  Party 91 


VI  CONTENTS. 

MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

To-  94 

In  Silence 95 

But  This 95 

In  the  Gloaming 96 

Ivy 97 

Contentment 98 

El  Cabo  de  Todos 99 

Armageddon 100 

Unrecognized 101 

YOUTHFUL  POEMS. 

Possession 105 

In  Golden  Gate  Park 105 

A  Picture 107 

Retribution 109 

After  Church in 

Winona 112 

A  Dream  of  the  Tropics 113 

Unrest 114 

Sonnet 115 

A  Burial  Hymn 116 

Adios 116 

In  An  Album 117 

In  Retrospect .% 117 

Drift  With  the  Tide 119 

Madonna  Mia 120 

Evening  and  Morning. 121 

Fickle  Sorrow 122 

A  Fragment 123 

A  Memory 125 


il, 

0 


Usq/nA,Z'lA'  * 


0 


Jessamine  ^> 

Violet, 
This  Book  is  Affectionately  Dedicated. 


MYSTIC    POEMS. 


REINCARNATION. 

in  that  far-oiT  time,  of  which  thou  tellest, 
Thou  shalt  be  I?     When  I  am  cold  and  dead, 
And  life  from  my  numb  fingers  slipped  and  fallen, 
Thou  shalt  take  up  again  its  silver  thread? 

Thou  shalt  be  I?  My  very  dreams  and  visions, 
My  hopes,  my  aspirations,  and  my  fears, 

Mv  sins  and  shame — e'en  these  be  in  thy  being, 

And  mold  thy  fate  through  those  thy  span  of  years  ? 

Nay,  I  had  thought  when  this  brief  life  is  over 
To  lay  the  body,  like  a  worn-out  tool,  aside, 

And  the  dark  record  of  its  earthly  errors 
Within  the  silence  of  the  grave  to  hide. 

Or  that  the  grave-earth  through  the  coming  ages 
Shut  in  and  closed  the  Book  of  Life  for  aye. 

And,  say'st  thou,  there  are  yet  unopened  pages, 
And  every  page  a  life — another  I? 

So  be  it.     There  are  thoughts  my  soul  has  cherished 
I  fain  would  see  live  on  when  I  am  dead. 


*A  monologue,  in  which  the  reflected  "  I  "  of  the  present  personality  addresses 
the  reflected  "  I,"  of  the  next.  In  the  philosophy  of  Reincarnation,  the  real 
"  I,"  the  Reincarnating  Ego,  is  untouched  and  unchanged  by  birth  or  death. 
With  its  lower  reflection  in  matter,  or  each  personal  "I,"  the  case  is  dif 
ferent.  This  perishes  as  an  entity  at  death,  and  only  lives  in  the  memory  of 
the  Higher  or  Reincarnating  Ego  thereafter.  Of  course,  it  is  the  same  "  I  am  I" 
in  each  personality;  but  this  poem  is  written  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  ordi 
nary  person,  who  has  no  recollection  of  preceding  lives,  and  to  whom,  therefore, 
each  life  seems  separate  and  distinct. 


12  DRIFTINGS    IN   DREAMLAND. 

If  but  the  good  survived  !     If  evil  perished 
Thou  had'st  not  such  a  thorny  path  to  tread. 

And  so,  I  charge  thee,  hearken  to  my  warning, 
For  I  have  somehow  missed  the  goal  in  life, 

And  thou,  mine  other  self,  mayhap  may'st  profit 
By  these  my  failures  in  its  war  and  strife. 


I  have  dreamed  dreams  of  bold  and  high  endeavor ; 

Of  battles  for  the  Right  fought  well — and  won  ; 
Of  succor  for  the  oppressed  ;  of  freedom  conquered 

For  serfs  of  every  clime  beneath  the  sun. 

Yet,  in  the  passion  of  the  battle's  clamor, 

I  have  been  reckless  of  my  thrusts  and  blows, 

And  oft  have  found,  when  passed  the  glamour  fatal, 
Myself,  a  traitor,  fighting  for  my  foes. 

And  often  when  the  world,  mad,  drunk  with  error, 
Knelt  to  some  transient  idol  of  its  heart, 

Crying,  "  Great  is  Baal !    Baal,  live  forever  !  " 
I  have  been  silent :  played  the  coward's  part. 

But  thou — O,  thou  shalt  see  with  clearer  vision  ! 

Thou  shalt  face  sternly,  in  majestic  wrath, 
All  forms  of  error.      Fears  shall  not  assail  thee, 

Nor  Doubt's  dark  demons  stalk  about  thy  path. 


And  if,  amidst  the  warfare  and  the  turmoir, 
The  Sphynx  has  looked  upon  me,  gloomy-eyed, 


DRIFTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND.  13 

And  questioned  :    "  What  is  life  1 "  I  turned  me  priestward, 
And  on  their  pattered  creeds  alone  relied. 

And  if  Christ's  tender,  pitiful  forgiveness 

Seemed  an  unmanly  portal  to  the  rights 
Of  blissful  heaven ;  if  such  cheap  salvation 

A  warrant  seemed  for  lengthening  sin's  delights  ; 

Or  if  pure  Buddha's  life-long  sacrificing 

Of  all  desires  that  make  our  earth  lives  sweet 

Seemed  but  a  darkening  of  the  holy  wisdom 
That  chains  in  flesh  our  erring,  straying  feet ; 

Or  if  the  sacred  fire  of  Zoroaster 

Concealed  the  true  Fire  from  our  longing  eyes; 
Or  if  Mahomet's  holy  fasts  and  vigils 

Led  to  a  sensuous,  selfish  Paradise, 

I  questioned  not.     Thou  shalt  not  need  to  question: 
All  faiths  shall  yield  their  mysteries  to  thee. 

Thou  shalt  lay  bare  the  Secret  of  the  Ages, 

And  know  the  truth  :  and  it  shall  make  thee  free. 

The  world  has  known  a  thousand  holy  Saviours — 
Each  Judas-kissed,  betrayed,  and  thrice  denied. 

Prometheus,  Indra,  Christna,  Mithra,  Jesus, 
Are  but  a  tithe  of  these,  its  Crucified. 

And  thou  shalt  love  them  all.     Thy  larger  wisdom 
Beneath  each  creed  shall  find  truth's  hidden  gems. 

Thou  shalt  ascend  to  many  mystic  Calvaries ; 
Thou  shalt  bring  myrrh  to  many  Bethlehems. 


14  DRIFT  LNGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

The  separate  goal,  the  personal  salvation, 
Shall  seem  a  selfish  end  to  thy  pure  eyes. 

Humanity's  great,  pulsing  soul  be  thy  soul, 
To  perish  with  it,  or  with  it  to  rise. 


And  I  have  dreamed  of  love ;  and,  in  my  dreaming, 

Have  likened  it  to  that  rejected  stone 
Which  made  the  temple  perfect.     Blessed  and  radiant, 

Life  crowned  by  love  sits  king-like  on  its  throne. 

Yet,  like  the  treasure  by  some  earth-gnome  guarded, 
Love  vanishes  when  just  within  our  grasp. 

Like  Dead  Sea  fruit,  it  turns  to  dust  and  ashes — 
A  Cleopatra's  basket,  with  its  asp. 

And  why?     Men  know  not  love  from  selfish  passion : 
They  force,  like  Titus,  its  most  holy  shrine, 

And  find  naught  there  but  solitude  and  silence. 
Love  dwells  within  :  it  has  no  carnal  sign. 

The  love  that  seeks  as  its  supremest  object 
To  crown  another  life  with  its  high  grace 

Encounters  lust,  mad,  frantic  for  possession, 
And  dies  in  that  unholy,  fierce  embrace  ! 

And  man  who  ever  seeks  some  hapless  idol, 
Forsaking  stone,  has  made  of  woman  one, 

Wiser  than  He  who  first  his  help-meet  fashioned 
Flesh  of  his  very  flesh  j  bone  of  his  bone. 

Bone  of  his  bone.     His  strength,  his  weakness 
Is  knit  in  every  fibre  of  her  heart, 


DRIFIINGS    IN   LREAMIvAND.  15 

In  every  good,  in  every  sin  or  passion 

Still  is  she  help-meet ;  bears  an  equal  part. 

Except  that  man  through  ages  of  oppression 

Has  forced  her  to  adopt  a  devious  path ; 
Forbade  to  reason,  taught  to  turn,  dissemble, 

She  fawns  and  natters  to  forestall  his  wrath. 

He  sternly  bids  her  prophesy.     Her  message, 

Like  Delphic  priestess,  in  her  cave  of  old, 
Bears  double  meaning.     He  in  choosing 

Takes  that  his  self  love  wishes  to  be  told. 

And  so  she  sits,  a  tottering,  trembling  goddess, 
Upon  the  dizzy  heights  of  her  false  throne. 

Half  conscious  of  her  folly  ;  half  believing, 
And  wholly  envious  of  man  alone. 

And  yet  her  throne  is  formed  of  aspirations 
Toward  all  that  men  hold  sacred,  holy,  true. 

She  incarnates  the  virtues  of  the  nations 
As  Buddha's  ugly,  lifeless  idols  do. 

But  in  thy  day — Oh,  then  shall  love  be  perfect ! 

Thine  eyes  shall  not  be  blinded  by  the  light 
Of  fires  unholy.     Thou  shalt  choose  thine  help-meet, 

Star-eyed,  clear-souled  and  radiant  in  thy  sight. 

She  shall  enfeminine  thy  harder  nature  ; 

Thou  shalt  bring  strength  where  she  is  faint  and  weak 
And  thy  divided  lives  shall  this  blessed  union 

Into  the  One  of  perfect  being  speak. 


16  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

The  weariness  of  age  bears  hard  upon  me, 

And  memories  of  unforgiven  sins 
Loom  large  and  black,  as  life's  brief  day  declining 

Shows  sharper  shadows  ere  death's  night  begins. 

And  in  my  soul  there  dwells  the  gnawing  sadness 

Of  golden  opportunities  forever  lost ; 
Of  toils  and  pain  to  gain  the  gifts  of  Mammon ; 

Of  heaping  dust  to  ashes,  to  my  cost. 

For  I  have  lived  for  intellect;  have  wandered 
Down  dusty  paths  of  useless,  cumbrous  lore. 

The  surface-seeing,  catalogueing  Babel 
Of  science  I  have  held  a  priceless  store. 

That  science  which  with  all  its  store  of  knowledge 
Knows  naught  of  life — from  whence  it  came,  or  why. 

A  broken  reed,  it  pierces,  sharp  and  sudden, 
When  at  the  end  we  lean  on  it  to  die. 


And  I  must  wait  (thou  sayest)  in  worlds  unreal, 
With  earth's  desires  still  hot  within  my  heart, 

While  earth  is  not ;  and  time  and  space  together 
Forsake  my  life  :  become  as  things  apart. 

Yet  feel  the  shock  and  thrill  of  mortal  battles, 
While  I  seem  by  some  hideous  nightmare  bound ; 

My  touch  unfelt,  my  form  unseen,  unnoticed; 
Voice  my  despair  in  shrieks  that  give  no  sound. 

I  shall  press  kisses  on  lips  cold,  unanswering  ; 
My  loving  words  beat  back  on  my  own  breath. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  17 

One  hope  alone  shall  cheer  my  fainting  spirit — 
The  speedy  coming  of  the  second  Death. 

O^e  day  is  as  a  thousand  years  in  His  sight ; 

A  thousand  years  as  one,  brief,  Summer  day. 
It  well  may  be  that  one  such  hour  of  torture 

Shall  purge  a  lifetime's  earth-desires  away. 

Then  I  shall  merge  my  purified  existence 

Into  bright  visions,  glorious,  supreme. 
The  loved  and  lost  shall  gather  close  around  me — 

I  shall  create  and  dream  them  in  my  dream. 

And  I  will  dream  no  partings  there,  no  sorrows, 

(I  shall  be  arbiter,  creator,  king), 
No  envy,  malice,  heartache,  hate,  ambition, 

No  sin  nor  shame,  nor  any  wicked  thing. 

Rest  shall  be  there.     The  moaning,  tossing  ocean 
Shall  break  no  more  its  billows  on  the  shore ; 

The  laboring  earth  shall  cease  its  fierce  commotion, 
And  storm  and  quake  shall  rend  and  throe  no  more. 

And  peace,  and  truth,  and  hope  shall  brood  in  silence, 

Until  a  new  and  perfect  earth  I  tread. 
The  nations  shall  not  gnash  their  teeth  in  anguish, 

Nor  curse,  nor  murder,  in  their  strife  for  bread. 

Alas,  the  woes  of  life,  its  struggling,    sinning, 

Are  earth-born,  of  the  body's  fierce  desire. 
Few,  few  have  sinned  for  knowledge  or  for  wisdom. 

Soul  sight  grows  clear  at  passion's  funeral  pyre. 


18  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

And  here  the  bitter  struggle  for  existence 

Strengthens  each  base  and  false  thing  in  our  hearts, 

Which  else  had  died  ;  but  now,  in  black  luxuriance, 
Preys  vampire-like  upon  our  better  parts. 

Yet,  while  I  dream,  of  wars  and  woes  unconscious, 
The  struggle  for  the  Right  will  still  go  on. 

Lo,  even  now,  faint-limned  against  the  Orient 
Appears  the  promise  of  the  coming  dawn. 

Yea,  champions  shall  rise ;  and  hairy  Baptists, 
Shall  cry  out  in  life's  wilderness  of  wrong  ; 

And  Christ's  shall  come ;  Buddhas  forego  Nirvana — 
And  when  I  wake  the  time  will  not  seem  long. 

Nay,  when  thou  wakest.     I  shall  be  forgotten 
When  thou  shalt  "  get  thee  coats  of  skin  "  again, 

And  joy  in  life  with  all  its  glorious  newness, 
Unconscious  of  my  old  life's  grief  or  pain. 

My  spirit  shall  be  thine — I  know  it  fully — 
Whate'er  this  mortal  body  may  betide. 

And  yet,  this  brain  that  thinks,  this  heart  so  daring — 
They  seem  as  kingly  tools  to  cast  aside. 

Ah,  well !     I  merge  my  hopes  and  aspirations 
On  thee ;  and  I  will  henceforth  bring  to  thee 

The  sacrifice  of  all  my  lower  nature 

That  thou  may'st  rise,  unfettered,  fearless,  free. 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  glory  and  the  triumph, 
Thy  lips  shall  voice  the  paeans  and  the  songs, 

When  kingcraft,  statecraft,  priestcraft,  all  shall  perish, 
And  with  them  all  their  harpy  brood  of  wrongs. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

The  petty  aims  of  life,  its  vain  ambitions, 
These  are  but  toys  that  occupy  its  youth. 

Its  manhood's  strength  shall  find  but  one  vocation — 
The  earnest,  ceaseless  search  for  God  and  truth. 


Sometime  these  past  lives  all  shall  be  remembered? 

Nay,  then,  if  thou  shalt  gain  that  sunny  height, 
Look  kindly  back  on  this  my  feeble  groping, 

Through  doubts  and  darkness,  towards  the  promised  light 

Perhaps  the  one,  supreme,  initial  effort, 
The  choice  between  the  evil  and  the  good. 

O  * 

That  made  thee  possible,  is  marked  by  footprints 
Where  iny  thorn- torn  and  bleeding  feet  have  stood. 


IN  SHASTA 'S  SHADOW. 

JTTuE  air  is  fragrant  with  the  balmy  breath 
•*•     Of  stately  cedar,  and  of  drooping  fir ; 

Of  mountain  pines  that  softly  sway  and  stir, 
As  each  to  each  some  whispered  secret  saith. 

Above  looms  up  great  Shasta's  hoary  head, 
Clothed  in  white  raiment  of  eternal  snow. 
Silent,  apart,  he  views  the  world  below 

Like  one  who  counts  his  unreturning  dead. 

His  birth-throes  rent  the  reeling  continents, 

'Midst   shifting  seas,  and  quaking,  world-wide  fears 


20  DRIFTINGS  IN   DREAMLAND. 

When  history  clossd  her  long  account  of  years, 
And  turned  a  page,  all  whit3,  for  new  events. 

For  when  his  peaks  shook  off  the  sapphire  wave, 
And  reared  them  haughty  to  the  horrent  sky, 
Atlantis  sank,  with  drowning,  dying  cry, 

To  her  abysmal,  lost,  forgotten  grave. 

Yet,  since,  he  sits  in  lone,  eternal  pride ; 

A  civilization  counts  but  one  brief  day ; 

Its  rise,  its  zenith,  and  its  slow  decay 
Mark  but  a  ripple  on  his  life's  long  tide. 

His  wisdom  is  the  fruit  .of  age  untold ; 

His  silence,  because  none  can  understand. 

Alone  he  sits,  and,  sphynx-like,  views  the  land 
Whose  history  is  locked  in  his  firm  hold. 

The  Dwellers  in  the  Caves — he  saw  their  day ; 

The  Builders  of  the  Mounds  to  him  bowed  down  ; 

The  Aztecs  sacrificed  beneath  his  frown ; 
And  these,  the  offspring  of  some  lost  Cathay — 

All,  all  he  knew.     Their  long-forgotten  past 
Lives  in  his  memory,  as  fresh  and  green 
As  these  tall  pines,  whose  leafy,  emerald  sheen 

Begirts  his  base,  in  forests  dense  and  vast. 

Yet,  like  Atlantis,  mayhap  waits  a  sea, 

That  shall  o'erwhelm  e'en  his  imperious  brow. 
All  things  created  to  time's  fiat  bow, 

And  Shasta's  very  name  shall  buried  be. 


DRIFTINGS  IN  DREAMLAND.  21 

Still,  ere  that  awful  day,  of  nature's  wrath, 

When  she  "  repents"  her  having  borne  our  race, 
And  to  our  prayers  turns  stein,  unpitying  face, 

While  cataclysms  sweep  us  from  her  path, 

It  may  be  Shasta,  from  his  icy  height, 

Shall  look  down  o'er  a  happier,  better  world. 
Ormuzd,  perchance,  may  win  ;  Ahriman  hurled 

Where  new  spheres  rise  by  mingling  wrong  and  right. 

Then  will  the  cruel  race  for  wealth  have  ceased ; 

Ambition  fold  his  bloody  hands  and  die  ; 

No  Shylocks  for  their  pounds  of  flesh  shall  cry ; 
No  idlers  sit  down  to  an  unearned  feast. 

No  more  the  war-cry  of  the  strong  be  heard ; 

Nor  nations  plunged  by  king-craft  into  strife  ; 

But  in  the  new,  grand  Brotherhood  of  life 
The  deeper,  truer  chords  of  love  be  stirred. 

Then  Labor  shall  be  king  ,  unfettered  thought 

Shall  set  his  tasks  to  pure,  harmonic  song. 

Days  shall  be  full  of  peace,  and  life  be  long, 
And  strife  and  evil  cease,  and  be  forgot. 

0,  Shasta,  if  before  thou  sink'st  again 

Thou  see'st  these  things,  brought  by  our  drifting  ships, 
So  shalt  thou  pass  with  blessings  on  thy  lips, 

And  thy  long  life  will  not  have  been  in  vain ! 


DRIFTINGS    IN   DREAMLAND. 

RACHEL. 


IN  Ramah,  o'er  her  infant  dead, 
Wept  Rachel ;  sore,  uncomforted. 

Above,  the  sky  arched  blue,  serene ; 
Beneath,  the  vine-clad  hills  were  green. 

Soft  breezes,  fresh  from  Galilee, 
Brought  grateful  kisses  from  the  sea. 

All  fair  things  thronged  about  the  spot ; 
Yet  what  availed  when  they  were  not  *? 

The  harp,  swept  o'er  by  fingers  skilled, 
Seemed  rnoskery  with  their  voices  stilled. 

The  twitter  of  the  nesting  birds 
Recalled  their  broken,  childish  words. 

A  thousand  unexpected  things 
Brought  sudden,  sharp  rememberings. 

O,  Jewess  mother,  centuries 
Still  echo  thy  despairing  cries  ! 

Thy  life  is  not — is  past,  apart ; 

Yet  still  thy  wailings  haunt  each  heart 

Still  we,  who  weep  a  withered  flower 
That  bloomed  one,  transitory  hour, 

In  our  new  grief  but  voice  the  woe 
That  wrung  thy  heart  so  long  ago. 


DRIFTINGS    IN   DRKAMI.AND. 

Still  is  the  tear  our  eye  that  tills 
Old  as  Judea's  hoary  hills. 

And  white  lips  mumble  words  of  faith, 
And  each  set  phrase  that  comforteth. 

But  in  our  hearts,  Death's  "  Dust  to  dust" 
Meets  voiceless  plaint,  "Unjust,  unjust !" 

And  Time,  who  heals  all  wounds  but  death, 
Folds  helpless  hands,  nor  answereth. 

And  so,  like  thee,  with  bowed  head, 
We  mourn  our  dead,  uncomforted  ! 


AT  THE  END. 

OME  day  shall  death  look  on  my  face 
And  bid  me  follow  to  his  place. 


Some  day  my  wearied  lids  shall  seal 
To  earth,  and  awful  things  reveal. 

What  shall  come  first,  of  all  that  waits 
Where  life  is  barred  back  at  his  gates  ? 

Will  earth  have  fled,  as  flees  a  dream 
Before  the  morning's  'wakening  beam  1 

Or  will  our  dim,  sealed  eyes,  the  end 
The  vision  of  enchantment  lend 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

And  earthly  things  change  and  grow  clear, 
Until  we  find  that  heaven  is  here  ? 

Will  slim,  white  hands  we  oft  have  kissed 
Beach  out  and  grasp  ours  through  the  mist  ? 

And  a  soft  voice,  out  of  the  Infinite, 
Say,  "  Sorrow  is  dead,  and  woe  with  it." 

"  Of  all  sweet  things  in  the  vale  of  breath 
There  is  naught  so  beautiful  as  death." 

"  Death,  which  you  mortals  so  dread  and  fear, 
Is  a  pitying,  compassionate  angel,  dear ! " 

Ah,  well !     Let  us  fold  our  hands  and  wait ; 
Some  day  will  be  woven  our  web  of  faie. 

And  the  Weaver  shall  look  on  it  once  and  say, 
"  It  is  done  as  I  planned  it ;  take  it  away  ! " 

And  the  knowledge  that  no  one  can  know  and  live 
That  moment  under  His  eyes  will  give  ! 

In  the  silence  that  follows  ours  souls  shall  hear 
The  Sphynx's  dark  riddle  first  made  clear. 

O,  terrible  joy  !     O,  moment  grand  ! 
To  feel  it  is  ours  at  last  to  command ! 

For  life  has  concealed  with  the  mists  of  his  breath ; 
But  death  must  discover,  or  he  is  not  death ! 

And  we,  who  in  life  were  the  sport  of  fate, 
At  last  his  secrets  must  penetrate. 


DR.IFTINGS  IN   DREAMLAND.  25 

As  dumb  brutes  we  are  constrained  and  compelled — 
Life  forced  upon  us  and  its  meaning  withheld ; 

But  death,  like  a  beautiful  dream,  ere  long 

Shall  right  each  thing  that  has  seemed  to  us  wrong. 

And  our  pale  lips  parted,  but  not  with  breath, 
Shall  whisper,  "O,  terrible,  beautiful  death," 

''Of  your  joys  the  chief est,  supremest  good, 

Is  to  find  God  knew ;  and  we — misunderstood  ! " 


FATE. 

SULLEN  SEA,  that  fling'st  thy  waves 
5     Against  the  adamantine  rock, 
Which  age  on  age  thy  fury  braves, 

Canst  thou  forbear  the  hopeless  shock  1 

O  brooklet,  murmuring  through  the  lea 
Where  buttercups  and  pansies  grow, 

The  gray,  dead  sea  awaiteth  thee, 

Yet  canst  thou  stay  thine  onward  flow? 

0  soul,  that  beatest  'gainst  the  bars 

Which  gall  and  chafe  thy  prisoned  life, 

Defeat  has  marred  a  thousand  wars, 

Yet  canst  thou  cea  >e  the  bootless  strife  1 


26  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

REMINISCOR. 

How  sweet  will  earth  life  seem  ! 

Who  has  not  passed  through  troubled  times,  where  foes 
Made  life  a  weary  burden,  till  arose 
Betimes  strong  friends,  who  stayed  his  sinking  hands, 
And  victory  wrought  1     Yet  when  the  shifting  sands 
Of  life  have  thrown  that  barren  waste  of  time 
Far  in  the  past,  how  discords  melt  to  rhyme  ! 
How  do  the  false,  the  wrong  fade  from  our  view, 
Leaving  undimmecl  the  good,  the  beautiful,  the  true, 

Blended  as  in  a  peaceful  dream  ! 

How  sweet  will  earth  life  seem ! 
The  sin  and  shame,  the  woe  and  misery, 
Will  all  have  faded.      Memory's  drifting  ships 
Will  cast  the  gall  and  wormwood  in  the  sea, 
And  bring  sweet  wines  alone  unto  our  longing  lips. 
And  we  shall  drink ;  and  with  the  draught  shall  come 
Old  earth  life  thronging  back ;  as  passing  sweet 
As  when  in  visions  comes  our  childhood's  home, 
With  grassy  pathways  for  our  tired  feet, 
With  love  our  aching  hearts  to  fill  replete, 

And  not  one  link  lost  from  the  perfect  dream 


REST. 

ODEAD,  who  slumber  soft,  with  dim,  sealed  eyes, 
)       Nor  struggle  more  for  nature's  hard-grudged  breath, 
Is  it  not  sweet,  this  solemn  sleep  of  death, 
Where  tasks  are  done,  and  none  cry  out,  "  Arise?1' 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 
FAITH. 

A  traveller  o'er  a  pathless  plain 

While  yet  from  haunts  of  men  afar, 

Was  shrouded  by  night's  sable  train, 
Unlit  by  one  faint,  glimmering  star. 

Yet  still  he  bravely  struggled  on, 
Hoping  to  hold  his  course  aright, 

And  soon  a  dim  path  chanced  upon, 
Which  plainer  grew  as  grew  the  night. 

But  when  the  morning  dawned  at  last 
To  his  amazement  then  he  found 

The  long,  long  weary  night  had  passed 
Treading  a  narrow  circle's  round. 

Oh,  thus  do  men,  with  clinging  faith, 
Press  onward  through  the  night  of  life, 

Each  in  his  circle,  until  death 
At  last  forbids  the  useless  strife. 

All  faiths  are  false ;  are  but  the  track 
Where  wandering,  erring  feet  have  trod. 

All  faiths  are  true,  for  all  lead  back 
To  where  we  started — and  to  God. 


ETERNAL  PATIENCE, 

IN  Egypt,  godlike  Cheops  reigned, 
And  built  a  wondrous  pyramid. 
Long  centuries  have  waxed  and  waned 
Since  in  its  depths  his  tomb  he  hid. 


28  DRIFTINGS  IN   DREAMLAND. 

At  length,  by  vandal  hands  laid  bare, 

Some  wheat  grains  in  the  tomb  were  found. 

They  sowed  them  there  with  wond'ring  care 
In  Gizeh's  silent,  sacred  ground. 

They  sprouted,  grew  !     The  cycling  years 
Could  not  destroy  the  germs  they  hid. 

Disturbed  by  neither  doubts  nor  fears, 
They  waited  'neath  the  pyramid. 

Have  faith,  my  soul !     The  germs  of  good 
Somewhere  within  thy  being  lie  ; 

The  Bow  of  Promise  spans  the  flood — 
Thine  hour  awaits  thee,  by-and-by  ! 


MY  CREED. 

TTTms  is  my  creed :     I  cannot  reach 
-*•     By  thougiit,  or  word,  or  deed,  the  height 
Where  God  is  throned.     My  puny  might 
Is  less  than  naught  in  His  pure  sight. 

Yet  God  made  Man :  and  men  are  his. 
And  so,  like  one  who  wandering 
Finds  a  poor  brute,  dumb,  suffering, 
And  succors  the  insensate  thing 

For  love  unto  its  master  borne, 

E'en  so  towards  man,  frail,  passion-tossed, 
Will  I  do  right.      If,  to  my  cost, 
More  is  required,  then  am  I  lost. 


^    gr^_ 


SEA     SONGS. 


THE   SOUTHERN  CROSS. 

THWART  a  sky  of  purple  dye 

It  flared  and  flamed,  a  beacon  light, 
A  grand,  weird  beacon,  set  on  high 
To  guide  a  drifting  world  aright. 

And  all  around  the  restless  sea 

White  arms  aloft  did  reach  and  toss, 

And  gladly  called  aloud  to  me, 

"  The  Southern  Cross  !  The  Southern  Cross  ! 

And  I  was  glad  ;  and,  gazing  far 

Across  the  foam,  blown  white  as  floss, 

I  vowed  no  more  the  North's  cold  star 
Should  lure  me  from  this  tiery  Cross. 

For  that  dear  night  she  stood  by  me, 
My  dark  love,  of  the  sunny  South, 

And  each  gust,  eddying  o'er  the  sea,     . 
Blew  me  sweet  kisses  from  her  mouth. 

Her  tresses,  tangled  by  the  breeze, 

Swept  o'er  my  breast,  in  silken  skeins. 

Oh,  never  fetters  dear  as  these 

Bound  hopeless  thrall  in  willing  chains ! 

Her  large,  dark  eyes  now  thrilled  me  through, 
Now  drooped  beneath  their  fringes  long. 

Her  voice,  low-toned,  and  accent  true, 
Seemed  sweet  as  some  sad  singer's  song. 


32  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Clasped  to  my  heart,  with  trembling  joy, 
(How  strangely  kin  are  joy  and  pain  ! ) 

My  happiness  knew  no  alloy 

JFirst,  last,  with  thee,  O  maid  of  Spain  1 


O,  naming  Cross,  far  from  thy  sight 
I  roam  the  icy  North  alone. 

The  love  that  dawned  that  starry  night 
As  dawned  thy  light  for  aye  is  gone. 

And  still  I  sigh,  and  moaning  cry 
Unto  the  hungry,  cruel  sea, 

O,  give  my  sweet  dead  up  to  me 
O,  sea,  or  clasp  and  bid  me  die ! 


SUNSET  ON  THE  GOLDEN  GATE. 

BOAM-C RESTED  waves,  of  molten  gold, 
That  rock  enrapt  in  sundown  beams, 
And  hold  and  kiss  the  crimson  gleams, 
Like  lover,  grown  with  dalliance  bold. 

I  list  their  murmur  on  the  beach 

Of  this,  the  wave- worn  Occident, 
And  muse  if  so  the  Orient 

They  lull  with  like  low,  dreamy  speech. 

Aye,  speech  of  brighter  skies  than  these, 
That  look  down  o'er  a  fairer  clime ; 
A  land  of  music,  mirth  and  rhyme, 

Of  greener  isles  ;  of  bluer  seas. 


DRIPPINGS   IN    DREAMLAND.  33 

For  somewhere,  while  the  billows  fret, 

Rocks  ship  of  mine,  that  rich  freight  brings 
To  waiting  me.     Their  whisperings 

Say,  "  Hold  thy  faith  ;  she  cometh  yet  1 " 

Still  all  they  tell  I  can  not  ken — 

I  know  when  South  winds  softly  blow, 
And  rippling  crests,  with  murmur  low, 

Croon  to  their  mates,  who  croon  again, 

That  they  are  whispering  of  lands 

Which  lie — I  know  not  where ;  I  list 
To  voices,  calling  through  the  mist, 

And  fainting  reach  to  reaching  hands — 

And  suddenly  my  dream  is  gone. 

Returns  the  silvery  beach  once  more, 
The  crimson  waves  break  on  the  shore^ 

And  murmur  on  ;  and  murmur  on. 


Now  sinks  the  sun  beneath  the  wave, 

And  calls  each  lingering  beam  away, 
And  speeds  them  forth,  to  herald  day 

On  shores  which  Far-East  oceans  lave. 

Reluctant  yields  each  shivering  crest 
Her  lover,  who  in  haste  has  fled : 
Yet  blushing  now  a  rosy  red 

That  he  so  long  lay  on  her  breast. 

But  night,  approaching  silently, 

Hides  now  the  blush  'neath  purple  pall, 

That  falleth  gently  over  all, 
And  lulls  to  sleep  both  land  and  sea. 


34  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

AT    SEA. 

TTTHE  waves  dash  by  with  eager  speed, 
•*•      As  though  from  far-off  seas  had  come 

Dim  bugle  call  and  roll  of  drum, 
Telling  of  strife  and  hour  of  need. 

And  on  ea^h  quivering,  rushing  crest 
The  white  foam  leaps,  like  rider  bold, 
Who,  falling,  yet  regains  his  hold, 

With  lightest  laugh  when  hardest  pressed. 

And  gray  gulls,  folding  weary  wings, 
Alight  within  our  vessel's  wake, 
Drop  far  astern,  then,  rising,  take 

Our  course,  with  scolding  questionings. 

To  starboard  glides  a  stately  ship, 

With  silent  sails  that  glint  and  gleam ; 
An  utter  stranger,  yet  abeam 

Our  courteous  ensigns  mutual  dip. 

And  I — I  look,  and  muse,  and  say, 
"  O,  brother,  on  life's  stormy  sea, 
Let  this  to  us  a  token  be 

While  threading  our  uncertain  way." 

"  Reach  out,  and  grasp  my  reaching  hands 
For  the  brief  time  our  pathways  cross, 
Then  though  the  waves  roll  in,  and  toss 

Our  barks  apart,  the  moment  stands. 

An  island  green,  whose  emerald  sheen 
Of  wave- washed  shores  shall  ever  be 
A  grateful,  pleasant  memory, 

Tho'  years  and  seas  drift  in  between  !" 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

SUNSET  AT  SEA. 
OFF  THE  COAST  OF  SAN  SALVADOR,  CENTRAL  AMERICA. 

CTT  WESTERN  lies  a  weird,  wide  sheen 

/•*>     Of  waves,  which  stretch,  a  purple  sedge, 

Out  the  far  horizon's  edge, 
And  droon  and  croon  the  waste  between. 

While  to  the  East  a  tropic  shore 

Looms  out,  as  brought  by  magic  wand ; 
And  seaward  from  the  flower-strewn  land, 

Drift  odors  sweet,  the  waters  o'er. 

And  farther  back,  within  the  marge 
Of  shadows  where  creeps  on  the  night, 
Dim  outlined  by  his  own  rod  light, 

Santana  towers,  black  and  large. 

Anear,  in  moody  silence,  frown 

Huge  peaks,  whose  fires  have  long  since  died  j 
Yet  grand  they  stand,  in  sullen  pride, 

Wrapped  in  the  darkness,  settling  down. 

Lo  !  in  the  West,  as  sinks  the  sun, 

A  thousand  viewless  spirit  hands 

Are  busy,  painting  fairer  lands 
Than  mortal  eyes  e'er  look  upon. 

Dense  banks  of  purple  cloudlets  form 
Dark  foreground;  then  a  crystal  sea, 
A  glassy,  waveless,  boundless  lea, 

Sweeps  towards  eternal  shores;  while  warm 


35 


36  DRIFTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND. 

And  beautiful,  a  thousand  isles 
Lie  sparkling  in  the  amber  light, 
Gemmed  o'er  with  verdure,  fresh  and  bright 

As  April's  in  wreathed  tears  and  smiles. 

Through  vales  where  star-crowned  palm  trees  grow, 
A  brook  of  gold  steals  soft,  as  if 
'Twere  dazed,  until  from  onyx  cliff 

It  leaps  into  the  sea  below. 

And  crystal  mountains  rise,  to  mock 
Their  compeers,  black,  upon  the  shore ; 
These  California's  ruddy  ore ; 

Of  sapphire  those,  a  solid  rock  ! 

Southward  a  fierce  volcano  burns, 
Outpouring  lava,  glowing,  red, 
Which  seeks  a  lakelet's  emerald  bed 

And,  cooling,  into  rubies  turns. 

And  floating  o'er  the  enchanted  scene 
Are  tinted  clouds,  fair  as  the  mist 
Of  colors,  when  by  sunbeams  kissed 

The  blushing  rainbow's  arc  is  seen. 

But  night  creeps  slowly,  surely  on — 
And  somber  grow  the  tints,  and  gray ; 
Like  earth  hopes,  fade  they  sad  away, 

And  sea,  and  isles,  and  day  are  gone. 


IN     DIALECT 


IN  THE  DRIFT. 

EAR  away  down  the  shaft,  in  the  face  of  the  drift, 
Two  miners  were  busily  working. 
With  a  jest  now  and  then,  just  to  give  time  a  lift, 
As  they  toiled  through  the  hours  of  the  dreary  night  shift— 
Nor  dreamed  they  of  danger  near  lurking. 

One  Cornish.     He  spoke  of  his  home  o'er  the  sea, 

And  its  loved  ones,  with  passionate  yearning  j 
A  dear,  patient  wife,  who  with  hope  ever  bright 
Watched  o:er  her  three  babes,  kept  the  cottage  aright, 
While  awaiting  the  wanderer's  returning. 

How  the  thought  fires  his  heart,  puts  new  strength  in  his  arm, 

And  the  worn  drill  is  clanging  and  shrieking 
At  the  quick,  stinging  blows  which  relentlessly  fall, 
Driving  slow  the  hard  steel  in  the  firm  granite  wall, 
Which  encases  the  treasure  he's  seeking. 

The  other,  a  mere  lad,  scarce  out  of  his  'teens, 

Soft-voiced  and  fair  as  a  maiden. 

He  had  come  from  the  States ;  and  he  spoke  of  the  day 
When  from  mother  and  home  he  had  wandered  away 

To  the  mines,  that  with  treasures  were  laden. 

"And  I  never  write  back,"  added  he,  while  his  voice 

Grew  cold,  just  to  hide  his  regretting  ; 
"For  I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  write  till  I'd  struck 
Something  grand ;   but  I  never  have  had  any  luck, 

And  I  guess  the  old  folks,  are  fretting 


40  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

To  hear  from  me.      Well,  I  guess  one  of  these  days 

I'll  sit  down,  and  write  thsm  a  letter 
Jus-t  to  tell  them  I'm  living.      It's  hard,  tho',  you  seo — 
They  always  had  counted  so  much  upon  me, 

And  to  think  that  I've  not  done  no  better  ! " 

"Is  the  hole  deep  enough]     Well,  let's  tamp  down  tha  blast. 

It's  too  late  to  begin  any  sinking : 
Stick  a  light  to  the  fuse  and  come  out  o'  that  Joe; 
We'll  stop  in  the  raise  till  we  hear  the  blast  go ; 

It'll  throw  pretty  well,  I'm  a-tliinking." 


"  A  cave,  did  you  say  ?     Great  God,  them  poor  men  ! n 

"  Both  killed,  sir.      The  boys  say,  what  found  'em, 
They  were  out  in  the  raise,  when  the  rocks  overhead 
Tumbled  down,  killing  both  the  poor  fellows  stone  doad, 
And  pilin'  the  boulders  up  'roun.l  'em  ! " 

"But  the  worst  of  all  is,  tho'  we  know  very  well 
How  to  write  to  the  Cornishmun's  home, 

Where  the  boy's  folks  are  liviu'  can't  even  be  guessed. — -w 

Ah,  well.      After  all,  is  it  not  for  the  best  1 
They  will  die,  still  hoping  he'll  come ! 


FISHERMAN  JOB. 

"77rELL'  7oun£  'un>  vou're  nnghty  smooth  spoken,  and  it  all 

^A^  may  be  just  as  you  say, 

That  God  never  interferes  with  us ;   but  lets  each  one  go  on 
his  own  way; 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  41 

But  when  heaven  has  silvered  your  locks  with  the  snows  of 

some  eighty  odd  year, 

As  it  has  mine,  and  always  in  rnarcy,  you'll  regret  this  wild 
fancy,  I  fear. 

"  Just  let  me  spin  ye  a  yarn,  sir,  as  happened  a  long  time  agone 

To  me,  and  if  such  is  all  luck,  why,  I  hope  it'll  allus  hold  on. 

It's  now  nearly  three  score  Summers  since  this  accident  hap 
pened  to  me; 

Just  after  I'd  married  my  wife,  arid  settled  down  here  by 
the  sea. 

"For  I   were  a  fisherman  born,    sir,    lovin'  always   the   wild 

waves  to  ride ; 
They're  the  type  o'  my  life,  an'  I'm  think  in'  tliat  it's  now  near 

the  turn  o'  the  tide. 
There  ware  three  of  us  then  as  were  partners  in  the  trimmest 

and  best  little  boat 
As  ever  were  true  to  her  colors,  just  a  bright  little  "Sunbeam" 

afloat. 

"  We  had  had  a  long  run  o'  good  luck,  sir,  with  the  weather 

as  fair  as  could  be  ; 
And  the  morrow  were  goin'  again,   when  the  gray  light  first 

dawned  on  the  sea. 
But,    before   I  was  fairly   turned   out  it    seemed   as   I    heard 

something  say, 
*  There's  breakers  ahaad  o'  ye,  Job ;  don't  go  on  the  sea,  lad, 

to-day  !' 

"At  fust  I  felt  kind  o'  scared  like,   but  I  thought  'twas  all 

fancy,  you  see ; 
So  I  took  a  good  look  at  the  sky;  'twas  as  clear  and  as  bright 

as  could  be. 


42  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

But  it  still  seemed  to  whispsr,  'Beware  !'  an'  the  breeze  crept 

by  soughin'  and  slow, 
And  a  voice,  like  a  wail  for  the  dead,  with  each  gust  seemed 

to  murmur,  '  Don't  go  ! ' 

"  Then  I  got  kind  o'  nettled,  to  think  that  my  narves  should 

sarve  me  that  way, 
An'  I  says  to  myself,   '  You're  an  ass,  Job ;  but  ye'll  go  for  all 

that,  lad,  this  day.' 

So  I  kissed  wife  a  hasty  good  bye,  and  set  off  a  hummin'  a  song, 
'Till  the  path  took  a  turn  by  that  cliff,  at  whose  foot  the  sand 

stretches  along. 

"  Then  what  happ3n3d  I  never  could  tell,  but  the  fust  I  re 
member,  I  know, 

The  cliff  were  afrownin'  above  me,  and  I  stunned  and  bruised, 
down  below  ! 

And  my  wife  kneelln'  down  by  my  side,  an'  lookin'  as  fright 
ened  as  if 

I  were  dead.  Says  she,  'Job,  were  ye  crazy1?  Ye  walked 
right  straight  off  o'  the  cliff!' 

"I  didn't  say  much;    and  of  course  my  mates  went  out  that 

day  alone. 
An'  I  lay  on  my  bed,  kind  o'  happy  to  find  arter  all  I'd  not 

gone. 
But  the  strangest  of  all  is  yet  comin',  for  that  mornin'  as  fair 

as  could  be, 
Was  followed  ere  noon  by  a  storm  as  was  fairly  terrific  to  see. 

"We  waited  in  agony,  knowin'  such  a  sea  the  boat  could  not 

outride ; 
-\nd  were  thankful  when  even  their  bodies  were  laid  at  our 

feet  by  the  tide. 


DRIFTINGS  IN   DREAMLAND.  43 

It's  no  use  in  askin'  my  fate,  if  that  mornin'  I  only  had  gone ; 
And,  if  such  things  all  happen  by  luck,  why,  I  hope  it'll  allus 
hold  on ! 


AUNT  BEULAH 

mHY  I  never  got  married,  Melissa  1    Well,  I'm  sure  I  can't 
tell  you,  my  dear  ; 
I   haven't    thought    much    about  sweethearts    for   nigh  onto 

thirty  odd  year. 
I  am  sure  I  am  happy,   my  darlin'  that  to-morrow  will  greet 

you  a  bride ; 
But  why  I  never  got  married — law,  I  never  could  tell,  if  I  tried. 

It  wasn't  that  none  came  a-wooin',  deary  me  I  had  plenty  of 

beaux. 
And  more  than  I  wanted.     The  right  one  didn't  happen  to 

come,  I  suppose. 

Tell  you  about  them  1     You're  foolish,  my  child.      Let  me  see — 
Well,  the   handsomest    one,   I    remember,    was    curly-haired 

Robert  McKee, 

Did  I  love  him  1     Well,  yes,  child,  he  seemed  once,  of  course, 

very  dear; 
But,  law,  that  has  passed  away  long  since,  along  with  these 

thirty  odd  year. 
Of  course,  I  remember  him  yet,  for  we  can't  help  that  if  we 

would ; 
Though  I  never  have  tried  to  forget  him,  for  there 

reason  E  should. 


44  DRAFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

And    sometimes   when  I  sit  with  my    knittin'   my  thoughts 

wander  back  to  the  clays 
When  I  used  to  love  spellins'  and  quiltins'  and  the  parties, 

with  old-fashioned  plays. 
And  the  sleigh  bells  that  jingled  so  merry,  as  we  dashed  along 

over  the  snow, 
For  Robert  at  such  times  as  these  was  generally  with  me  you 

know. 

And  he  seemed  to  be  happiest  always  when  he'd  tucked  me  in 

fora  ride; 

And  I  wasn't  quite  so  contented  as  when  I  was  snug  by  his  side. 
Tho'  we  never  said  nothin',  but  only  loved  on  in  the  old,  quiet 

way; 
But  somehow  i  fancied  that  Robert  grew  cbarer  with  every  day. 

Till  one  time  that  I  long  shall  remember  as  the  happiest  hour 

of  my  life, 
Came  a  letter  that  told  all  his  love,  and  asked  me  to  be  his 

own  wife  ! 
Such  a  letter  !     I  always  have  kept  it,  tho'  now  it's  so  faded 

and  blurred 
That  I  scarcely  can  read  it ;  but  then  it  was  dearer  than  gold, 

every  word  ! 

So  I  stole  me  away  to  my  chamber,  to  answer  the  letter,  you  see, 
And  tell  him  how  happy  I  was  to  know  that  he  loved  only  me. 
Then  I  sent  it ;  and  waited,  and  waited  for  his  footsteps  again 

at  the  door ; 
And    what  there  was  wrong  I  don't  know;  but  1  never  saw 

Robert  no  more  ! 

For  the  very  next  evening  they  told  me  he  started  across  the 
wide  sea  ; 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  45 

And  I  bore  up  bravely,   to  show  them  his  goin'  wan't  nothing 

to  me. 
But  the  sky  for  a  time  seemed  so  leaden,  and  the  world  was  so 

cheerless  and  cold, 
And  when  it  at  last  had  passed  over,   I  found  I'd  begun  to 

grow  old. 

For  parties  and  spellin's  and  such  things  seemed  to  be  kind  o' 

like  children's  play  ; 
And  tho'  there  were  many  came  wooin'  there  were  none  that  I 

cared  to  have  stay. 
So  I've  lived  on  contented  and  cheerful,  and  I  can't  say  that 

blessings  I  lack, 
For  I'm  happy  when  gazin'  before  me,  and  I  love,  dearly  love 

to  look  back. 

Cryin',  child  1  Well,  joy  that  is  deepest  is  of  tenest  seen  in  a  tear  ; 
But  for  me  it  has  passed  away  long  since,  along  with  these 

thirty  odd  year, 
lam  happy,  so  happy,  my  darliri'  that  to-morrow  will  greet  you 

a  bride ; 
But,  why  I  never  got  married,  law,  I  never  could  tell,  if  I  trie  I ! 


ONLY  JOE. 

This    grave,   were  ye  meanin',   stranger'?     Oh,  there's  nobody 

much  lies  here  ; 

Its  only  poor  Joe,  a  dazed  lad ;  been  dead  now  bettar'n  a  year. 
He  were  nobody's  child,  this  Joe  ;  orphaned  the  hour  of   his 

birth. 


46  DRI.VTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND. 

And  simple  and  dazed  all  his  life,  yet  the  harmles^est  critter 
on  earth. 

Sorae  say  that  he  died  broken-hearted ;  but  that  is  all  nonsense, 

you  know, 
Fr.r  a  body  could  never  do  that  as  was  simple  and  dazed,  like 

Joe. 
But  I'll  tell  you  the  story,  stranger,  and  then  ye  can  readily 

see 
How  easy  for  some  folks  to  fancy  a  thing  that  never  could  be. 

Do  ye  see  that  grave  over  yonder  1  Well,  our  minister's  daugh 
ter  lies  there ; 

She  were  a  regular  beauty,  and  as  good  as  she  was  fair. 
She'd  a  nod  and  kind  word  for  Joe,  whenever  she  passed  him  by  ; 
But,  bless  ye,  that  were  nothin',  she  couldn't  hurt  even  a  fly. 

It  weren't  very  often,  I  reckon,  that  people  a  kind  word  would 
say, 

For  Joe  was  simple  and  stupid,  and  allus  in  somebody's  way. 

So  when  Milly  took  down  with  consumption  or  some  such  tick- 
ness  as  that, 

Joe  took  on  kind  o'  foolish — there  were  nothin'  for  him  to  cry  at. 

But  when  winter  was  come,  she  died;  and  I  well  remember 

the  day 

When  we  carried  the  little  coffin  to  the  old  churchyard  away. 
It  were  so  bitter  cold  we  were  glad  when  the  grave  was  made  ; 
And  when  we  were  done,  and  went  home,  I  suppose  poor  Joe 

must  have  staid. 
For  they  found  him  here  the  next  mornin',  lyin'  close  to  tV> 

grave,  they  raid  ; 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  47 

And  lookin'  like  he  were  asleep ;  but  then,  of  course,  he  were 

dead. 

I  suppose  he  got  chilled  and  sleepy,  and  how  could  a  body  know 
How  dangerous  thet  kind  of  sleep  is,  as  never  knosved  nothin', 

like  Joel 


ELIAB    ELIEZER. 

HE  Reverend  Eliab  Eliezer 

Sat  toasting  his  shins  by  the  grate; 
His  ponderous  brain  busy  musing 
On  man's  most  pitiable  state. 

Abroad  the  storm-king  was  raging, 

And  the  snow  was  fast  whitening  the  ground  ; 
Yet  its  fury  disturbed  not  Eliab, 

From  his  reverie,  so  deep  and  profound. 

Aye ;  he  thought  how  wicked  and  sinful 
Was  poor  fallen  man,  at  the  best ; 

And  even  Eliab  Eliezer 

Was  almost  as  bad  as  the  rest ; 

And  he  piously  groaned  in  the  spirit 

At  the  flesh,   which  so  leads  us  astray. 
"There  is  nothing  that's  good,"  saith  Eliab, 

"In  these  weak,  worthless  vessels  of  clay." 

"Now  there's  swearing  Meg,  at  the  corner ; 
Her  case  shows  plainly,  I  think, 


DRIFTINGS    IN   DREAMLAND. 

How  wicked  our  natural  hearts  are ; 

How  much  lower  than  brutes  we  can  sink. 

"  I  will  preach  to  my  people  a  sermon, 
And  take  swearing  Meg  for  my  text, 

And  show  them  how  narrow  the  safe  road 
That  leads  from  this  world  to  the  next." 

So  he  sat  himself  down  at  his  table, 
And  began  with  "  Original  Sin  ;  " 

And,  by-and-by,  Meg  and  her  swearing 
Were  deftly  dove- tailed  therein. 

With  thirdly  and  fourthly  he  finished  ; 

Then  turned  to  his  grate,  nice  and  warm  ; 
When  bethought  of  Widow  Morey,  and  wondered 

If  she  were  prepared  for  the  storm. 

"  I  will  call  around  soon  in  the  mornin^ 

O 

And  be  sure  that  all  is  quite  right." 
He  did  ;  and  found  food  in  abundance, 

And  the  grate  with  a  fire  glowing  bright. 

And  the  widow,  with  joy  fairly  weeping, 
Told  how  she  was  caught  by  the  storm. 

Not  a  morsel  of  food  for  her  children  ; 
Not  a  coal  her  poor  hovel  to  warm. 

And  that  they  would  surely  have  perished — 

Too  chilled  to  go  out  and  beg — 
When  pitying  heaven  sent  succor 

By  such  a  strange  angel — old  Meg  ! 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  49 

Then  a  light  slowly  dawned  on  Eliab ; 

I  can't  say  what  conclusion  he  reached ; 
But  I  know,  stowed  away  'mong  his  sermons, 

Lies  one  that  never  was  preached. 


LABORER  MIKE. 

|IKE  earns  just  a  dollar  and  a  half  .every  day, 

And  toils  from  the  rise  to  the  set  of  the  sun ; 
He's  a  wife  and  five  childer — the  sixth  on  the  way— 
Who  all  have  to  eat  and  be  clothed  on  his  pay. 
Now,  how  in  the  de'il  is  it  done  1 

First,  then,  he  burrows  in  some  dirty  street, 

In  a  basement,  perhaps,  or,  perhaps,  near  the  sky ; 
And  he  pays  forty  cints  every  day  to  the  cheat — 
The  landlord — God's  vicar  'twould  seem — the  dead  beat, 
But  he's  lord  of  poor  Mike  and  his  sty. 

Two  bits  to  the  butcher  for  a  bit  aff  the  neck 

Of  a  sheep,  for  'twill  make  both  some  broth  and  a  stew ; 

Potaties  tin  cints  for  the  half  av  a  peck  ; 

Siven  mouths  make  of  three  loaves  av  bread  a  sad  wreck, 
And  that's  fifteen  cints,  at  the  best  you  can  do. 

His  groceries  cost  him  some  twinty  cints  more — 
For  sugar  and  coffee  and  butter  and  sich ; 

Thin  tin  cints  for  coal  to  cook  his  scant  store ; 

And  tin  cints  for  milk,  av  it's  left  at  the  door  ! 
And  five  cints  for  beer — wad  ye  grudge  it,  ye 


5o  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

So  there's  fifteen  cints  left  for  the  clothes  that  they  wear — 
For  shoes,  hats  and  coats,  and  such  short-lasting  things, 
Four  dollars  a  month,  with  a  few  cints  to  spare — 
How  the  wife  makes  it  do,  we  must  niver  inquire, 
For  expadients  laid  bare  is  where  poverty  stingy. 

So  Mike  lives  along,  with  nothing  to  fret, 

Till  his  job  peters  out,  or  the  wife's  taken  sick  ; 
Thin  his  bank  suspinds  payment,  and  Mike  gets  in  debt 
To  butcher,  and  baker,  and  doctor,  you  bet, 

Just  as  long  as  each  party  will  sell  goods  "  on  tL-k." 

Thin  what  does  he  dot     He  finds  a  new  job. 

But  how  can  he  live,  and  yet  his  debts  pay  1 
He's  a  deep-thinking  social  economist,  my  bob  ; 
He's  honest  at  heart,  and  it  hurts  him  to  rob, 

So  he  gathers  his  traps,  and — just  moves  away  ! 

Pray,  whose  is  the  fault  1     Mike's  labor  is  worth 

To  some  capitalist  prince  ten  dollars  a  day. 
He  squanders  the  rest,  for  he's  lord  of  the  earth, 
And  he  robs  and  cheats  Mike  from  the  hour  of  his  birth, 
While  we,  heartless  Levites,  "pass  by  another  way." 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


LISS  A. 


PART  I. 


/  have  no  thrilling  tale  to  tell, 

Of  daring  deed  or  awful  woe; 

And,  should  you  follow  wJiere  I  go, 

A  wasted  life  is  all  I  trace. 

Its  only  merit,  that  I  know, 

A  brother's  'tis,  of  our  strange  race. 


LISSA. 

I  CAN  not  tell — I  do  not  know, 
Though  dumb,  dead  years  have  glided  by, 
Whose  tombstones  white,  a  ghostly  sight, 
Are  all  that  now  remain  to  show 
I've  lived  them  o'er, — I  say,  to  me 
'Tis  yet  an  unsolved  mystery 
Why  she  should  love  me  so  ;    or  why 
I  gave  such  love  again.      Aright 
We  can  not  read  the  future's  lore — 
The  past  is  blurred  by  tears  ;  and  we 
Can  only  sigh;   "Ah,  me,  Ah,  me  ! 
Sweet  love  is  dead,  to  live  no  more  !" 

Yet  this,  and  this  alone  I  know, 
Amid  the  wrecks  the  years  have  made, 
We  loved.      Trusting  and  unafraid, 
We  bade  the  fleeting  moments  go, 
Believing,  with  unquestioning  faith, 
That  equal  joys  the  future  hath 
For  those  who  wait  with  ne'er  a  doubt 
To  shut  the  Bow  of  Promise  out  ! 

Not  beautiful ;  but  passing  fair 
She  seemed.     A  gold-brown,  dreamy  eye, 
That  haunts  me  yet,  half  pleadingly, 
Hilf  haughtily;   a  wealth  of  hair 
That  rippled  o'er  her  shoulders  bare 
In  jetty  curls ;    and  cherry  lips, 


56  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Which  stood  half  o'ped,  in  sweet  surprise 
That  you  should  pass  them  idly  by, 
When  they  were  waiting  to  be  kissed, 
If  love  would  only  claim  his  prize  ! 

And  oft  I  claimed  it.     Never  she 
By  word  or  sign  opposed  my  will ; 
Yet  still  I  durst  not  drink  my  fill 
At  such  dear  fountain,  lest  I  be 
With  love  intoxate  grown,  and  bold 
Had  crushed  my  vase  within  my  hold. 
For  deep  down  in  her  dreamy  eye 
I  saw  as  plain  as  though  it  there 
Were  traced  in  words  of  fire,  "  Beware ; 
That  love  which  ever  would  endure 
In  its  first  state,  untainted,  pure, 
Must  veiled  be  by  mystery  ! " 

Such  maid  was  she,  as  I  have  drawn 

In  colors  all  too  wan  and  faint 

Her  shadow  e'en  to  rightly  paint 

Who  with  firm,  gentle  grace,  upon 

Her  throne  within  my  heart  reigned  queen- 

A  worshiped  queen.      And  who  was  I, 

That  with  such  blind  idolatry 

Low  at  her  feet  was  ever  seen  1 

God  pity  me  !  I  do  not  know — 

I  can  not  read  the  Sphynx-like  book 

Which  opens  when  I  inward  look, 

And  mocks,  and  mystifies  me  so  ! 

For  I  was  aye  a  dreamer.     When 
A  wayward  child,  I  reamed  at  will 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  57 

O'er  grassy  vale,  or  wooded  hill, 

Sweet,  strange  companions  with  me  then 

"Were  ever  present.     I  could  hear 

Voices  which  reached  no  other  ear. 

Each  violet  blue  or  buttercup 

Held  elf,  or  shut  a  fairy  up ; 

A  thousand  leaflets,  fluttering 

With  joy,  to  me  were  beckoning ; 

Or  else,  if  Autumn  ruled  the  year, 

And  they  had  purple  grown  and  sear, 

So  plain  they  told  their  tale  of  woe, 

So  mutely  plead  for  grace  to  stay, 

That  I  could  almost  weep,  as  slow 

They  trembling  took  their  earthward  way  ] 

While  on  the  North  wind's  chilling  breath — 

Their  slayer — they  with  touching  faith, 

Wafted  a  farewell  piteously 

To  life,  and  light,  to  love  and  me. 

Yet  fairest  seemed  the  bright  Springtime, 

When  nature  doffed  her  icy  sheen, 

And  donned  her  beauteous  robes  of  green  ; 

When  in  a  happy,  babbling  rhyme, 

A  thousand  voices  sweetly  sang, 

A  thousand  echoes,  answering, 

Made  'wildering  concord.      Low  and  clear, 

Of  all  my  sweethearts  doubly  dear, 

The  blushing  flow'rets  called  to  me 

In  love's  own  language.     Though  there  be 

Long,  silent  years  between,  yet  plain 

I  still  can  heart  heir  sweet  refrain  : 


58  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

SONG. 

Come,  and  kiss  your  sweethearts, 
Waiting,  eager,  longing ; 

See  us,  laughing,  pouting, 
Everywhere  a-thronging. 

Here  are  violets,  nestling 
In  bright,  sunny  crannies  ; 

Here  are  lowly  daisies, 

Here,  proud  Jump-up- Johnnies. 

Here  are  red,  red  roses, 
Regal  in  their  splendor ; 

Here  are  white,  white  lilies, 
Whispering,  low  and  tender. 

Buttercups  and  pansies, 

Brown-eyed,  trembling  clover — 

All  have  kisses  waiting 
For  their  ling'ring  lover  ! 

We,  through  dreary  Winter 
Dared  not  show  our  faces, 

So  we've  waited,  waited, 
In  our  hiding  places  ; 

Cruel,  will  you  tell  us 

That  you  did  not  miss  us? 

Out  on  such  a  lover — 
Hasten,  kiss  us,  kiss  us  ! 


DRIFTINGS    IN   DREAMLAND.  59 

And  love  oft  dies  as  flowers  die, 
Chilled  by  the  North  wind's  icy  breath. 
Died  ours  by  such  cold,  numbing  death1? 
Nay ;  flowers  can  die  by  heat  as  well. 
The  very  warmth  which  gave  it  birth, 
And  bade  it  grow  and  bud  and  bloom, 
So  oft  the  fragrant  dew  may  sip 
That  sparkles  on  the  lily's  lip 
As  e'en  to  kiss  it  to  its  tomb. 
Can  love  which  burns  thus  fervently 
Die  by  its  own  intensity  1 
It  may  be  so ;  I  can  not  tell. 

In  memory's  halls  the  light  falls  fair 
On  one,  the  fairest  picture  there. 
'Twas  of  a  May-day,  fresh  and  bright, 
When  happy,  joyous  lads  and  maids 
Together  met,  'neath  sylvan  shades, 
To  choose  a  sceptered  Queen,  whose  right 
To  reign  was  peerless  beauty's  power. 
How  through  my  veins  the  hot  blood  raced, 
When  on  her  brow  the  crown  they  placed— 
May's  royal  Queen,  and  fairest  flower ! 
And  low  upon  the  bended  knee, 
In  earnest  half,  half  mockingly, 
They  vowed  eternal  fealty. 
How  song  and  dance  and  mirthful  play 
Ran  riot  through  that  happy  day  ! 
How  each  young  pair,  with  guarded  care, 
To  leafy  nook  would  steal  away, 
And  murmured  vows  and  kisses  rare 
Would  exchange  there,  on  sweet  May-day  ! 


60  DRIFTINGS    IN    DREAMLAND. 

'Mid  other  schemes  to  while  the  time, 
An  acted  play  there  lingers  still, 
Which,  though  but  acting,  sent  a  chill 
Across  my  heart,  like  tolled  chime 
Of  bells,  which  clang  out  mournfully 
With  jarring  grief,  to  feel  that  they 
Must  first  the  tidings  sad  convey 
That  Death  again  has  laid  his  hand, 
His  ruthless  hand,  upon  our  band, 
And  ta'en  from  thence  a  dear-lovecl  friend, 
Whose  face  we  never  more  shall  see  ! 

'Twas  of  a  maiden  young  and  fair, 
With  lover  rare,  of  high  degree, 
Who  humbly  sued,  on  bended  knee, 
That  she  would  hear  and  grant  his  prayer, 
His  loved  and  beauteous  bride  to  be ; 
So  well  he  plead  that  fain  was  she 
To  yield  her  heart  unto  his  care, 
When,  suddenly,  before  them  there, 
Appeared  a  wrinkled  hag,  and  old, 
Whom  all  the  people  knew  a  witch, 
On  midnight  jousts  who  rode  her  switch, 
Who,  to  avenge  some  fancied  wrong, 
Over  their  hearts  a  glamour  flung — 
For  passion  pure  deep  hate  upsprung ; 
Where  love-fires  burned  were  ashes  cold  ! 

To  play  the  beauteous  maiden's  part 

Was  hers  ;  and  mine  to  humbly  woo. 

Oh,  never  seemed  a  farce  so  true 

As  this ;  or  numbing  to  the  heart. 

No  muttering  witch  whose  curse-fraught  tones 

Rolled  o'er  love's  tomb  such  heavy  stones  ! 


DRIFIINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  61 

THE  CHARM. 

Fairies  and  elfins 

Peaceful  or  wrathful, 
Tell,  if  ye  ever 

Knew  lover  faithful ! 

Ye,  who  have  witnessed 

Love's  fiercest  flashes, 
Have  they  not  ever 

Ended  in  ashes  1 

Fickle  is  woman, 

Men  are  deceivers ; 
True  love  a  myth,  and 

Fools  its  believers ! 

A  beauteous  rose,  with 

A  worm  at  its  center  \ 
She  who  would  cull  it 

Soon  shall  repent  her. 

A  chalice  of  crystal 

With  joy  overflowing ; 
A  draught  of  its  waters 

Contentment  bestowing ! 


He  who  believes  it 

As  fair  as  its  seeming, 
Let  him  but  taste  it, 

And  wake  from  his  dreaming  I 

Aye,  wake  ;  but  to  find  him 
A  slave ;  doomed  forever 


62  DRIFTINGS    IN   DREAMLAND. 

To  a  hicbous  thrallclom 
Daath  only  can  sever  ! 

Hast  knelt  where  mourners  gathsr  'round, 

To  do  the  last,  sad  rites  of  love, 

On  pallid  brow  the  clods  above 

To  place,  and  consecrate  the  ground 

To  death's  long  sleep  1     Oh,  when  the  prayer, 

The  tearful  prayer,  breathed  soft  on  air, 

Hath  cea-,ed  ;  and  stillness  reigns  profound 

Till  broken  by  the  jarring  sound 

Of  rattling  clods  upon  the  lid 

Where  all  we  love  on  earth  lies  hid, 

Is  not  that  sound  an  awful  one  ? 

That  shrouded  sob,  that  muffled  moan, 

Heard  in  that  stifling  monotone  1 

So  seemed  her  voice  that  day,  who  laid 

Grave  earth  upon  my  heart,  nor  stayed 

Her  hand  till  cold,  dump  tomb  she  made ! 

And  gazing  down  on  Lissa's  face, 
I  saw  hope,  love  and  faith  all  fall 
Beneath  the  spell,  which  like  a  pall 
Enwi  apped  her,  too,  in  its  embrace. 
And  from  that  day  where'er  I  fled, 
I  heard  a  clanging,  tolled  knell, 
That  ever  one  sad  tale  did  tell : 
"  Thy  love  is  dead  ;  thy  love  is  dead  ! " 
The  why — dumb  lips  can  not  declare  ; 
But  howl     Hast  seen  the  tiny  tongue 
Of  flame  which  in  dry  grass  upsprung 
When  careless  spark  had  fallen  there  ? 
See,  how  it  struggles  for  a  hold — 


DRIFTiNGS    IN   DREAMLAND.  63 

A  feeble  thing  a  breath  would  slay  ; 
Ah,  it  has  gone  !     Nay,  it  has  leaped 
And  caught  another  blade,  which  old 
And  dry,  affords  an  easier  prey. 
Down  to  the  root  it  now  has  crept, 
And  licks  aloft,  with  tongue  as  red 
As  that  which  darts  from  cobra's  head. 
Yet  stronger  now  a  hundred  fold, 
It  lurks,  a  widening  sphere  of  gold, 
Until  it  feels  the  fanning  force 
Of  breath  of  air  ;  then    on  its  course 
It  feebly  starts — a  beauteous  thing  ! 
But,  see  !  a  thousand  tongues  upspring, 
Which  greedily  dart  far  and  wide, 
And  gather  food  on  every  side. 

Down  stoops  the  gale  to  nurse  its  wrath, 
And  urge  it  o'er  its  flaming  path  ; 
And  that  which  one  short  breath  agone 
Seemed  e'en  too  weak  to  tread  upon, 
Now  roars  with  hundred  voices  loud, 
As  wrapped  within  its  flaming  shroud, 
It  sweeps,  a  howling  fiend,  along  ! 
An  awful  wall  of  fire ;  its  speed 
By  far  outruns  the  swiftest  steed. 
Its  wrathful  roarings  stun  the  ear  ; 
Its  smoke,  in  columns  dense  and  vast, 
Pollutes  and  chokes  the  azure  waste 
Of  heaven  above  ;  its  flames  below 
Leap,  roar  and  crackle,  like  the  glow 
When  fuel  fresh  in  hell  is  cast ! 
The  bellowing  herds  flee  from  its  patli, 
And  rush  where  water  stays  its  wrath. 


64.  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Before  its  rage  men  pale  with  fear, 
As  it  licks  up  with  greedy  haste 
The  toil  of  years  ;  full  happy  they 
If  wife  and  babes  are  not  its  prey. 

But  it  has  gone ;  and  where  before 

A  sea  of  grass,  though  brown  and  sear, 

"Waved  beautiful  the  prairies  o'er 

Now  but  black,  smoking  wastes  appear  1 

Thus  died  our  love ;  not  cf  my  will, 
Nor  yet  of  hers  ;  but,  helpless,  we 
Saw  the  wild  heart-fiend  first  set  free, 
Watched  his  insatiate  rage ;  and  still 
Were  powerless  :  and  when  at  last 
The  bitter  burning  names  were  passed, 
And  but  dry,  ashen  plains  remained, 
We  saw  our  love  indeed  was  dead. 
And  cold  and  haughty  then  we  spoke 
Of  that  which  was ;  and  there  detained 
Ourselves  but  till  a  grave  we  made — 
Brief  task — and  love  therein  was  laid. 
Few  were  the  sobs  the  silence  broke, 
And  mocking  prayers,  if  aught  were  said 
And  then  to  other  skies  I  fled 
And  left  the  dead,  and  doubly  dead  1 


LI  SS  A. 


PART  II. 


A  song  of  b hie  mountains,  which  rear  them  aloft \ 

In  regions  imtrod,  of  our  own  Mexico  ; 
Of  beautiful  brooks,  that  with  murmurings  soft, 

Bid  adieu  with  regret,  and  awestering  flow. 
A  ripple  of  waves  wliere  a  brave  ship  glides  ; 

A  moaning  of  surf  on  a  tropical  sliore  ; 
A  nd  Ever  nor  Never  no  longer  divides 

Heart  as/tes  from  ashes  long  scattered  before. 


LISSA. 

TTTHERE  is  a  land,  as  yet  untrod 
•*-    By  wandering,  'wilderecl  feet  of  men, 
Where  mountain,  valley,  gorge  and  glen 
Belong  to  nature — and  to  God. 
For  surely  grander  monuments 
Of  him  who  shaped  this  beauteous  earth 
Are  not.      The  azure  sky  is  rent 
By  snow-capped  peaks,  which  reach  aloft 
In  daring  pride,  as  though  in  war 
With  heaven  itself,  their  hands  had  torn 
The  veil  that  hangs  between  ;  and  hurled 
Great  granite  masses  to  the  sky, 
Until  where  stars  and  planets  are, 
Where  moons  and  meteors  wander  nigh, 
They  rear  their  haughty  heads,  in  scorn 
Of  vanquished  foe  ;  aye,  pitch  their  tents 
'Neath  heaven's  very  battlements  ! 

And  prisoned  valleys,  far  below 
Lie  nestling,  in  dumb,  caged  content. 
Caged  and  yet  free.      For  many  a  rent 
Pierces  the  rugged  mountain's  side, 
And  yawns,  a  chasm  bold  and  wide, 
And  deep  and  dizzy  to  the  sight. 
Yet  still  they  lie,  within  the  might 
Of  their  strong  conquerors  ;  whose  hold 
Is  giant's  grip,  that  grows  not  weak, 
Tho'  myriad  crumbling  voices  speak 
How  grizzly  gray  they  are,  and  old. 


68  DRIFTINGS  IN   DREAMLAND. 

Amid  grows  tall  the  graceful  pine, 

With  here  a  feathery,  drooping  fir, 

And  there  a  fragrant  juniper. 

And  aspen  dwarfs,  which  crowd  to  line 

The  marge  of  streamlet,  welling  out 

The  mountain's  side.     These  wait,  in  doubt, 

With  russet  leaves  that  give  no  sign 

Of  their  rich,  beauteous  design, 

Until  a  breath  one  scarce  could  feel 

Sets  all  a  quiver  with  delight. 

Then,  with  a  flash  like  burnished  steel, 

Each  turns  its  breast  of  silver  white 

Up  to  the  sun's  warm  loving  light. 

And  leafy  pines  and  firs  between, 

Grows  rich  green  grass,  in  matted  swards, 

So  thick  and  dense  as  scarce  awards 

Room  for  the  flowers.     These  deck  the  sheen 

Of  waving  green  with  many  a  star 

Of  golden  hue,  of  violet  blue, 

Of  flames  that  leap  the  darkness  through, 

Of  silver  and  of  amethyst, 

Of  myriad  tints,  which  mock  the  mist 

Of  colors  when  the  sun  has  kissed 

And  coaxed  the  blushing  rainbow  forth 

From  out  her  cloud-land  hiding  place 

To  gaze  upon  the  beauteous  earth. 

Within  the  wood,  the  huge  horned  elk 
Wanders,  in  all  his  antlered  pride ; 
While,  on  the  sloping  mountain's  side, 
Coy  deer,  in  gray-blue  coats  of  silk, 
Loiter  at  will.     In  parks  between 


DRIFTINGS    IN   DREAMLAND.  69 

The  fleet-limbed  antelope  are  seen  ; 

While  far  above,  with  hoof  that  rings, 

From  crag  to  crag  the  wild  goat  springs  ; 

And,  roaming  restless  far  and  near, 

Like  Satan  'mongst  the  Sons  of  Men, 

Is  found  the  giant  grizzly.      He, 

A  mountain  mass  of  ugliness, 

Of  hideous  strength,  and  all  beside 

That  spread  his  cruel  terrors  wide, 

Is  all  the  shadow  darkening  down 

On  land  from  wrath  and  wrong  so  free. 

I  wandered  here  till  months  had  fled; 

Alone  I  ranged  the  mountains  o'er  ; 

Dreamed  new,  strange  dreams;   learned  mystic  lore 

From  nature's  page,  so  fair  outspread. 

I  saw  that  God  is  good  ;  that  when 

He,  resting,  said  His  works  were  good, 

That  they  indeed  were  perfect.     Men 

May  turn  blind  eyes  that  will  not  see, 

May  point  weak  fingers,  scoffingly, 

But  are  alone  in  their  vain  pride. 

The  towering  pine,  so  princely,  grand, 

Is  fittest  for  the  mountain's  side  ; 

But  where,  'mid  parched  and  fevered  sand, 

The  cactus  grows,  fierce-barbed  and  mailed, 

Not  less  a  monument  it  stands 

Of  one  design,  that  has  not  failed  ! 

And,  far  above  the  petty  strife, 
Where  each  seems  to  himself  control, 
jTe  sits  ;  and  molds  each  separate  life 
In  one  harmonious,  perfect  Whole. 


70  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

His  men  are  Empires ;  strong  and  great 

They  rise,  live  out  their  lives,  and  die ; 

Or  weak  and  faint,  they  yield  to  fate 

Ere  seems  begun  their  destiny. 

Still  with  a  strong  hand  and  a  just, 

Omnipotent,  except  to  fail, 

His  ends  are  served  when  they  are  dust. 

One  day  it  chanced  I  wandered  far 
From  my  accustomed  paths ;  and  stood 
At  eve  upon  a  mountain's  crest. 
And,  gazing  out  unto  the  West, 
I  felt  within  my  veins  the  blood 
Leap  quick  with  gladness.      Like  a  star 
I  saw  a  distant,  glimmering  light 
Ear  down  beneath  the  chilly  height, 
And  knew  that  I  had  neared  again 
The  long-forsaken  haunts  of  men. 
The  morrow  I  stood  face  to  face 
With  a  small  fragment  of  a  race 
Through  whom  ran  Montezuma's  blood. 
Gentle  and  trustful,  they  received 
With  welcoming  hands  the  strange,  white  man, 
And,  nothing  questioning,  relieved 
My  wants,  as  due  from  man  to  man. 
* 

And  I — I  stood  as  in  a  dream, 

And  listened  to  their  voices  low, 

And  musical,  as  is  the  flow 

Of  some  pure,  forest-broidered  stream. 

And  like  the  stream,  though  all  unknown 

Its  voiceless  language,  yet  we  know 

It  murmurs  blessings  in  its  flow, 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  71 

So,  without  \vords,  I  understood 

That  they  were  pure  of  heart,  and  good. 

Contented  here  I  gladly  stayed, 

And  learned  full  soon  their  simple  speech; 

Heard  all  their  legends;  saw  them  place, 

With  faith  that  shames  who  lean  on  Christ, 

Each  night  a  watchman,  with  his  face 

Turned  to  the  Eist,  lest  He  should  come — 

Great  Montezuma — and  should  find 

His  people  unprepared.     They  said 

That  some  fair  dawn,  from  out  the  East, 

In  robes  like  naming  fire  arrayed, 

And  on  a  steed  milk-white,  and  fleet, 

That  He  would  come.      If  not  to-night, 

Why,  then,  to-morrow — sometime.      He 

Had  sworn  to  them,  in  ages  past 

That  He  would  come,  and  they — believed  ! 

They  set  apart  a  priestess,  too  ; 
Great  Montezuma's  chosen  bride ; 
The  fairest  that  their  nation  knew, 
And  wise,  and  pure  of  heart  beside. 
This  one  had  large  and  lustrous  eyes, 
That  shone  as  from  some  hidden  fire  ; 
And  hair  of  purple  black,  which  fell 
Down  to  her  waist,  with  queenly  grace. 
I  sought  her  out,  and  touched  her  heart 
By  kindly  words,  until  one  day, 
She  drew  the  veil  aside,  and  lay 
Before  me  all  their  mysteries. 

"Once,  long  ago,"  so  said  the  maid, 

With  her  strange  eyes  that  seemed  to  look 


7*  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Adown  the  past,  as  in  a  book, 

That  she,  and  she  alone,  could  read, 

"  Once,  long  ago,  there  was  a  time 

"  When  God  spake  face  to  face  with  men, 

"  And  men  were  pure  and  unafraid. 

"  But  soon  they  sinned,  and  God  withdrew 

"  For  countless  suns  His  sacred  face ; 

"  He  then  forgave  a  chosen  few, 

"  And  these  the  fathers  of  my  race. 

"He  swore  to  them  that  he  would  send 

"  His  Son,  to  be  an  earthly  king, 

"  To  rule  and  bless,  till  time  should  end. 

"They  worshiped  Him  in  many  ways; 
"  By  burning  beasts ;  by  slaying  doves  ; 
"By  music,  strangely,  grandly  sweet, 
"  Of  many  instruments.     Their  feet 
"  Kept  time  to  holy  songs  of  praise. 
"  They  builded  Him  a  temple  grand, 
"  Where  dwelt  His  priests,  in  sacred  state. 
"  And  all  the  people,  far  or  near, 
"  Came  up  to  worship  every  year. 

"And  so  they  lived  ;  until,  at  length, 

"  Brother  'gainst  brother  drew  his  sword, 

"  And  fought  with  fierce,  unholy  strength. 

"Our  Fathers  were  defeated.     They 

"Then  left  the  land  that  gave  them  birth, 

"  And  wandered  forth  through  this  wide  earth. 

"  Through  blood,  and  tears,  and  famine,  they, 

"For  myriad  suns,  kept  on  their  course. 

"  And  many  perished,  on  the  way 

"  Their  swords  carved  out,  with  desperate  force. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  73 

"At  length,  they  conquered  this  fair  land, 
"  And  of  their  captives  chose  them  wives — 
"The  rest  they  slew.     They  builded  them 
"Grand  palaces  ;  and  chose  for  king 
"Great  Montezuma. 

"  All  is  gone 

"  Their  strength,  their  greatness,  with  their  lives 
"  Went  out.      And  now  a  feeble  band, 
"  Their  children  toil  from  sun  to  sun, 
"  Longing  for  that  which  is  to  be. 
"  With  God's  own  son  they  now  confound 
"  Great  Montezuma.     None  but  we, 
"  His  priestesses,  have  kept  alive 
"The  old,  old  faith.     But  He  will  come, 
(How  her  dark  eyes  burned  mine,  like  name  ! ) 
"  God's  glorious  Son  will  surely  come 
"  One  day.     What  matters  then,  His  name  ] 
"  So  let  them  be  ;  they  are  not  wrong 
"Who  trust  in  God." 

With  this  she  turned 
To  feed  a  sacred  flame,  which  burned 
Less  fierce  than  her  mysterious  eyes  ! 

Again  the  spirit  of  unrest 
Returned,  and  bade  me  rise,  and  flee. 
I  turned  tired  feet  unto  the  West, 
And  sought  the  grand,  Pacific  sea. 
I  stood  where  Colorado  cleaves 
Great  granite  mountains  sheer  in  twain. 
And,  like  a  monster  serpent,  weaves 
His  devious  way  through  desert  plains. 
I  saw  the  rugged  cacti  stand, 


74  DRIFTINGS    IN    DREAMLAND. 

Stern  as  some  mail-clarl  sentinel  j 
I  trod  the  ashen,  fevered  sands 
Of  Arizona's  desert  hell ; 
1  traversed  calm  and  stormy  seas ; 
I  stood  beneath  the  pine  and  palm ; 
Yet  Norland  cares,  nor  tropic  ease 
Brought  not  forgetfulness,  nor  calm. 
And  in  my  heart,  the  whole  day  long, 
Like  fairy  chime,  so  soft  and  clear, 
I  heard  the  echo  of  a  song — 
"Thou  art  so  far,  and  yet  so  near  ! " 

SONG. 

I  have  conned  o'er  the  task  thou  hast  set  me 

Again,  and  again. 
I  have  burned  thy  sad  words,  "  Forget  me  ! " 

On  heart  and  brain. 
Yet,  dear  love,  while  memory  liveth 

Hope  ever  will  stay  ; 
Unbidden  her  promise  she  giveth 

For  aye,  and  for  aye  ! 
Oh,  stay,  then,  thy  words  of  rebuke,  love, 

Till  memory  be  dead  ; 
And  hope,  with  her  visions  so  sweet,  love, 

Forever  is  fled  ! 

O'er  lands  and  o'er  seas  I  have  wandered 
In  rest-seeking  flight; 

With  mountains  and  plains  have  I  sundered 
Thy  form  from  my  sight. 

Yet  the  sad  waves,  with  low,  ceaseless  mumur 
Are  crooning  thy  name  ; 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 


75 


And  in  the  soft  breezes  of  Summer 

Tis  whispered  again. 
Oh,  pause,  then,  before  chiding  me,  love, 

For  forgetting  thy  will, 
And  speak  to  the  winds  and  the  sea,  love, 

And  bid  them  be  still  ! 

So  sad  days  dawned,  in  purple  and  in  gold, 

In  gold  and  purple  did  the  days  expire  : 

And  years  (O  life  from  death  ! )  did  slow  unfold 

Out  of  the  mold  of  their  unrealized  desire. 

And  days  and  years,  in  vague  unrest, 

Lapsed  by,  to  make  a  life  unblest. 

A  life  !  How  passing  strange  it  is  ! 

How  like  a  song  in  unknown  tongue, 

By  wandering  minstrel  sweetly  sung, 

Of  which  we  hear  the  quivering  notes, 

As  out  upon  the  air  it  floats, 

But  not  one  word  can  understand  ! 

We  pause,  and  muse,  and  wisely  guess 

What  tale  the  bard  would  fain  convey. 

And  if  the  song  float  clear  and  strong, 

We  cry,  "  Lo,  this  is  triumph's  lay  ! 

A  song  of  love,  which  won  its  prize ; 

A  hymn  of  praise,  by  victor  sung ; 

Of  hope,  for  fulfilled  prophecies  ; 

Of  bread  returned,  on  waters  flung  !" 

But  if  the  tune  die  sad  away, 

"  Lo,  'tis  a  funeral  dirge,  this  lay ; 

A  tale  of  piteous  distress ; 

A  wreck,  far  drifted  out  from  land  ; 

A  woe  so  hard  none  understand, 

This  minstrel's  sad,  sweet  song,"  we  sa 


76  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Ah,  well !  What  is  eternity 
But  years  which  circle,  slow  and  grand, 
Where  ere  the  old  comes  twice  to  hand, 
JTis  long  forgot — and  therefore  new  ! 
But  circling  years,  though  wheeling  slow, 
Tell  out  our  lives  with  wondrous  speed ; 
So  let  them  flit.     We  can  but  heed 
The  summons  when  it  comes — and  go  ! 
*  *  *  *  *  * 

From  far-off  lands  there  comes  a  voice, 
"Come  back  !>;    0,  lost,  0,  love,  rejoice  ! 


POKMS   OF    HOiVIE. 


Many  the  gifts,  and  passing  fair, 
Hath  God  vouchsafed  unto  our  race; 

Yet  'mong'st  those  that  most  precious  are 
Doth  memory  hold  exalted  place. 
Dear  memory,  whose  silent  feet 
Become  the  crutch  of  halting  age, 

We  tax  thee  sore  and  oft ;  yet  sweet 
And  loving  is  thy  vassalage. 

O,  nymph,  who  knows  not  time  nor  space. 
Link  hands  and  go  with  me  to-day, 
For  I  would  wander  far  away, 
And  long-abandoned  pathzvays  trace. 


THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 

A    FRAGMENT. 

'JT[is  Winter's  waning.      Yesterday 

A.      A  sleet  storm  howled  the  long  day  through 
With  stinging  fury.      Yet  to-day 
All  is  serene  and  fair  to  view. 
Each  tree,  encased  to  utmost  twig 
Within  an  icy  coat  of  mail, 
Stands  like  an  armored  giant,  big 
With  purposes  that  can  not  fail. 
The  clear,  cold  sun,  so  far  that  seems 
Yet  nearest  is  of  all  the  year, 
Makes  the  translucent  armor  gleam 
And  sparkle  like  a  million  spears. 
See  the  still,  frozen  forest  stretch 
Its  tangled  branches  leagues  away — 
Here  glittering  to  the  sun's  soft  touch, 
There  shaded  to  a  pearly  gray. 
Above  the  bare  boughs  interlace 
And  frame  blue  bits  of  sky  between — 
No  art  their  beauteous  maze  can  trace, 
Nor  tongue  describe  the  fairy  scene. 
Beneath  a  silence  calm,  profound, 
As  though  all  strife  for  aye  had  fled, 
Save  where  with  crushing,  creaking  sound 
The  snow  resents  the  passer's  tread ; 
Or  when,  with  sound  like  rifle  crack, 
A  thawing  tree  fires  snapping  gun, 
While  distant  echoes  answering  back, 
Show  Winter's  reign  is  almost  done ; 


So  DRAFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Or  when,  with  earthquake-like  report, 
A  forest  monarch,  proud  and  tall, 
Judged  by  some  elemental  court, 
Obeys  with  sudden,  awful  fall. 

Surprised  and  timid,  here  and  there, 

The  white-tailed  rabbit  leaps  away, 

With  furry  foot  that  treads  on  air, 

So  swift  he  skips  and  silently ; 

And  high  above,  with  feet  that  cling, 

The  prairie  chickens  watchful  sit, 

Ready  on  whirring,  sailing  wing, 

With  quick  alarm,  away  to  flit. 

Deep  in  the  forest,  hid  from  view, 

A  river  lies,  frost-bound  and  still 

Upon  whose  breast  of  glassy  hue 

An  army  might  encamp  at  will. 

Here  drooping  willows  line  its  banks, 

With  boughs  caught  in  its  cold  embrace ; 

Here  cotton  woods,  in  glorious  ranks, 

Rear  high  their  heads,  with  stately  graca 

And  on  its  banks,  within  a  square 

Hewn  from  the  forest's  heart,  there  stands 

The  farm-house,  silvery  in  the  glare 

The  snow  reflects  on  every  hand. 

Around  its  eaves  the  icicles, 

A  beauteous  cornice,  thickly  run ; 

Stalactites  tapering  to  pearls, 

And  lengthening  in  the  warming  sun. 

Near  by,  with  stiff,  symmetric  grace 
The  orchard  trees  rebellious  grow, 
Each  leaning  devious  from  its  place, 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 


8l 


As  if  to  spoil  the  hateful  row. 

A  snowy  hillock  marks  the  spot 

Where  last  Fall's  fruit  was  stored  away, 

When  pippin,  bell-flower,  Queen  Charlott 

In  ruddy,  golden  glory  lay, 

Till,  covered  first  with  clean  bright  straw, 

The  earth  was  heaped  with  generous  hand 

So  deep  that  Winter's  frost  or  thaw, 

Warm  and  secure,  they  could  withstand. 

And  when  the  brief  day's  work  is  done 

And  the  long,  cosy  evening  near, 

With  eager  joy,  the  children  run 

To  plunder  from  the  treasures  here. 

The  frozen  earth  is  dug  away 

By  fingers  numb  and  red  with  cold  \ 

Yet  still  they  burrow  carefully 

Until  the  buried  fruit  they  hold. 

Then  from  the  loft  dry  nuts  are  brought, 

And  on  the  grate  the  wood  piled  higher, 

And  snow  and  cold  are  set  at  naught 

Before  the  sparkling,  blazing  fire. 


The  time  slips  by,  and  April  days, 
With  fickle,  chilly  showers,  are  here, 
And  in  the  tangled  woods  a  maze 
Of  swelling,  fragrant  buds  appear. 
While  waiting  not  for  leafy  robes, 
The  dogwood  bursts  in  sudden  bloom 
And  willows,  opening  tiny  lobes, 
A  fresh  and  tender  green  assume. 
And  in  the  sheltered,  sunny  spots 


32  DRIFTINGS   IN  DREAMLAND. 

A  few  wild  flowers  are  nestling  found : 
Sweet  Williams,  and  Forget-me-nots 
Bestar  the  grass  that  creeps  around. 
The  smoke  curls  blue  from  out  the  woods 
Where  dripping  fast  from  cruel  wounds, 
The  maple  sap,  in  generous  floods, 
Outpours  its  amber  sweets.     Around 
The  wooden  troughs  are  thickly  placed, 
And  gatherers  pass  with  hasty  steps 
Lest  any  overflow.      The  taste 
With  hollow  reed  to  youthful  lips 
Is  sweeter  far  than  ever  are 
All  future  draughts  that  manhood  sips. 

Afield,  the  plow  glides  through  the  ground 

Which  last  year  generous  crops  returned ; 

The  earth  purrs  with  a  low,  soft  sound 

As  each  black  furrow  is  upturned. 

The  musing  plowman  scarcely  heeds 

The  murmur  of  the  yielding  sod  : 

His  soul,  attuned  to  Nature's  deeds, 

Communes  direct  with  Nature's  God. 

And  feeh  that  since  Creation's  dawn 

The  fiat  whence  all  beings  springs 

Has  never  ceased.     The  very  stones 

Thrill  with  the  consciousness  it  brings. 

Creation  ceases  not ;    each  day, 

Each  moment  feels  the  eternal  force. 

And  life  in  myriad,  million  ways 

Obeys  its  sacred,  hidden  Source. 

To  live  is  Nature's  Great  First  Law; 

The  base  her  being  rests  upon. 

And  towards  some  goal,  of  solemn  awe, 


DRIFTING3   IN   DREAMLAND.  83 

Resistlessly  life  urges  on. 

Silent,  apart,  great  Nature  broods, 

With  matter  plastic  in  her  hands  ; 

And  in  her  countless  forms  and  moods 

The  finished  thought  reflected  stands. 

O,  Mother-nature,  Mother-god, 

We  press  en  towards  thy  holy  shrine ! 

The  form  is  but  the  lifeless  clod, 

The  soul,  the  heart,  the  purpose  thine  ! 


The  woods  are  now  one  dense,  dark  green, 

The  prairies  lose  their  sullen  dun, 

And  May,  robed  in  her  leafy  sheen, 

Thrills  to  the  kisses  of  the  sun. 

Across  the  field,  plowed  deep  and  well, 

Light  furrows  run  at  equal  space, 

And  to  the  hasty  droppers  tell 

Where  they  the  golden  grain  must  place. 

Behind,  with  tardier,  watohful  care, 

The  coverers  bury  well  the  seed. 

While  blackbirds,  circling  through  the  air, 

Plan  many  a  wild  foraying  deed. 

So  sleep  the  grains,  in  darkness  wrapped, 

Till  nature  whispers  soft,  "  Increase  !  " 

And  breathes  her  wondrous  secret,  kept 

Locked  in  her  breast  in  solemn  peace. 

This  Force  withm  the  kernel  rife 

Which  thrills,  expands,  bursts  through  the  sods, 

Is  the  forbidden  Tree  of  Life, 

Which,  knowing,  we  shall  be  as  gods  ! 

Then,  Nature,  guard  thy  secret  well, 


8;  DRIFTINGS    IN   DREAMLAND. 

For  men  strive  hard,  with  courage  high ; 
They  press  thee  close,  and  who  can  tell 
What  hour  may  bring  their  triumph  nigh? 
What  is  the  naming  sword  but  sin, 
Which  blinds  our  eyes  at  Eden's  gates'? 
Lo,  purity  shall  enter  in, 
Nor  fear  all  adverse  gods,  nor  fates  ! 


The  days  have  passed  in  patient  toil 
All  through  the  sunny  month  of  June, 
Thrice  has  the  plow  stirred  fresh  the  soil 
Between  green  rows,  grown  tall  so  soon. 
And  now  July,  with  fervent  heat, 
And  breathless  days  that  mark  its  path, 
Brings  yellow  fields  of  ripened  wheat — 
The  recompense  of  trust  and  faith. 
"Man  can  live  by  faith  alone." 
Nay  ;  he  each  day  by  faith  begins, 
And  ends  by  faith,  and  so  atones 
Unconsciously  his  conscious  sins. 
Each  night  he  yields  his  soul  to  sleep — 
The  mystic  prototype  of  death — 
With  faith  that  reason  tryst  will  keep, 
And  float  back  on  his  'wakening  breath. 
Through  all  the  devious  ways  of  life 
Faith  walks  before  and  points  the  road, 
And  when  we  cease  the  unequal  strife, 
It  leads  at  last  to  rest  and  God. 


DRIFTINGS    IN    DREAMLAND.  85 

GULP  A  MIA. 

ro  cottages  upon  the  green, 
Agone,  we  built  us,  side  by  side ; 
And  what  should  brothers'  homes  divide  ? 
So  nothing  there  we  placed  between. 

A  little  spark,  I  know  not  how, 

Was  fanned  into  a  sudden  flame. 

I  thought  he  wronged  me,  and  there  came 
Harsh,  bitter  words  between  us  now. 

He  could  not  brook  that  face  to  face 

We  stood,  in  passing  out  and  in; 

And  so  our  little  homes  between 
At  last  a  cold,  high  wall  did  place. 

I  saw  the  stones  piled  up  in  pride ; 

And  I  within  my  heart  a  wall 

Higher  and  prouder  built,  to  pall 
The  chambers  once  he  occupied. 

And  then  I  wandered  far  away — 

For  half  a  life    we  had  not  met ; 

I  thought  to  find  the  barrier  yet 
When  I  returned,  one  Summer  day. 

But,  lo  !  long  since  it  crumbled,  fell, 
And  nothing  now  our  homes  did  part ; 
And  suddenly  within  my  heart, 

I  felt  its  pride  was  gone,  as  well. 

Like  long-forgotten  childhood's  rhyme, 
My  brother's  voice  then  softly  said, 


86  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

"  Time  healeth  all,"     With  bowed  head, 
"Yea,"  whispered  I,  "and  blessed  be  time  !" 

Yet  though  the  iiesclless  wound  he  heals, 
Still  there  remains  the  cruel  scar 
On  hearts  and  wasted  years,  to  mar 

The  tear-blurred  page  the  past  reveals. 


IN  THE  CHURCHYARD. 

'HE  South  wind  was  laden  with  dew 

It  had  kissed  from  the  lips  of  the  clover, 
While  a  faint  breath  of  rose  odors,  too, 

Betrayed  the  caress  of  fond  lover, 
As  the  gate  op'ed  for  two  to  pass  through. 

Two  hearts  that  with  sorrow  were  numb 
To  the  graves  of  their  dead  were  now  come 

To  live  all  their  grief  again  over  : 
And  the  South  wind  sighed  low  and  was  dumb. 

One  sought  out  a  monument  proud 

Of  marble,  all  sculptured  and  graven ; 
That  with  cold,  lifeless  letters  avowed 

The  tribute  affection  had  given. 
But  the  crushed,  bleeding  heart  there  that  bowed 

Only  saw  in  the  marble  a  shroud 
That  barred  out  all  the  sweet  light  of  heaven. 

And  bitter  she  wept  that  the  pall 
Which  had  darkened  her  whole  life,  should  fall 

At  the  last  o'er  ths  tomb  it  had  given. 

The  other  paused  by  a  low  mound 

O'er  whish  green,  matted  grass  was  fresh  growing 


DRIFTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND.  87 

No  pile  of  carved  marble  was  found, 

Either  true  or  false  praise  vain  bestowing; 
But  daisies  and  violets  fair 

Were  nestling  contentedly  there, 
And  many  a  red  rose  was  blowing. 

And  the  heart  of  the  mourner  was  glad  i 

When  she  saw  the  companions  he  had 

Were  the  purest  and  best  earth  could  bring; 
For  the  loves  of  the  life  which  has  fled 

Now  cluster  to  cheer  his  lone  bed, 
And  her  grief  hath  no  more  its  sharp  sting. 

Then  the  South  wind  passed  on  till  he  came 

To  his  own  trusting  sweethearts,  the  clover; 
And  the  cheek  of  each  bloom  was  aflame, 

As  she  tiptoed  to  kiss  her  fond  lover. 
But  why  such  rare,  tender  caress 

He,  lingering,  gave  none  could  guess ; 
Bat  the  South  wind  this  thought  pondered  over: 

There  is  that  which  gold  never  can  buy ; 
Love  demands  love  again,  or  'twill  die, 

Whether  rose-queen  or  humble,  brown  clover ! 
So  he  stooped  with  another  warm  kiss 

For  the  red  lips  which  reached  up  to  his 
So  gratefully  fond,  and  from  this 

Gave  he  love  to  his  lowliest  lover. 


DRIFTINGS  IN   DREAMLAND. 
PROMISE. 

mHAT  though  the  faded  leaves  are  falling,  falling, 
Leaving  the  gnarled  limbs  comfortless  and  bare ; 
What  though  the  Winter  winds  are  moaning,  calling, 

In  tones  where  grief  commingles  with  despair ; 
Still  there  remains  of  Summer  days  a  token, 

A  faint,  quaint  perfume  where  the  flowers  have  been. 
And  frowning  clouds  by  sometime  rifts  are  broken 
Through  which  a  hint  of  Summer  warmth  drifts  in. 

What  though  our  souls  have  failed  of  high  enaeavor, 

And  grand  and  noble  deeds  be  all  foregone  ; 
What  though  our  tired  feet  grope  onward  ever, 

Well  knowing  that  our  goal  can  not  be  won ; 
Still  purposeful  is  life,  and  full  of  blessing 

Which  waits  on  patient,  little  deeds  of  love ; 
And  humble  acts,  if  faith  and  truth  possessing, 

At  last  a  richer  recompense  may  prove. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 

OR  life  is  like  a  rosary, 

Which  we  take  up,  and,  mutt'ring,  say 
Its  o'er  worn  beads;  then  haste  away  : 
And  life  hath  known  its  transient  day. 


And  well  for  us  if  mayhap  we 

E'en  its  few  beads  have  fully  told ; 

For  feeble  is  the  thread,  and  old, 

And  oft  breaks,  ere  they  reach  our  hold. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  89 

Yet  them  did'st  tell  them,  one  by  one  : 

Sorrow  and  grief,  and  woe,  and  pain ; 

Peace,  rest  and  heart-balm  ;  love's  sweet  bane, 

That  slays  to  make  alive  again. 

Aye,  thou  did'st  learn  how  passing  sweet 
(If  bitter  sweet,  yet  how  sweet  still  ! ) 
Was  love,  drunk  to  the  very  fill, 
Giddy  with  joy  and  drowning  ill. 

The  flower  that  blows  to  fade  at  noon, 

The  corn,  upsprung  while  frosts  still  are, 
A  song  voice,  drifting  swift  afar, 
Heedless  of  tip-toed  listener  — 

These  were  thy  life.     The  sinking  sun, 
One-half  his  rays  thrown  lovingly 
Toward  us,  and  half  as  eagerly 
On  lands  (O,  blind  ! )  we  can  not  sec, 

Such  thy  sweet  death.     Oh,  if  that  we 

Might  part  the  veil  that  makes  us  twain 
But  one  brief  moment,  how  would  pain, 
And  woe,  and  heartache — sin's  sad  train — 

Give  place  and  flee  !     Life's  mystery 

Is  death's  scroll,  closed  remorselessly  : 
But  one  alone  has  read,  and  he — 
0,  Christ-child,  lean  low  now  to  me  ! 


90  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

THE  ECHO. 

I  knew  a  spot,  in  olden  days, 

Where  I  have  laughed,  in  childish  glee, 

Or  sang,  or  called  defiantly, 

And  all  my  words  came  back  to  me. 

Bytimes  I  wandered  far  away  ; 

The  years  sped  by  like  wooing  time ; 

Came  flower  of  youth,  came  manhood's  prime, 

Then  came  gray  hairs,  a  silvery  rime. 

And  then  it  chanced  I  drifted  back, 

And  found,  as  wanderers  always  find, 
All  gone  that  linked  me  to  my  kind — 
Not  one  dear  thing  was  left  behind. 

Life  seemed  a  troubled  dream  to  me ; 
And  in  my  dream  I  wandered  on, 
And  as  old  scenes  I  mused  upon, 
Said  sadly  to  myself,  "  All  gone." 

"All  gone,"  returned  a  low,  sad  voice. 
I  started  at  the  apt  reply ; 
"Yet  you  are  faithful  still,"  sighed  I, 
And  "  Faithful  still,"  came,  with  my  sigh. 

Then,  lo!  a  thing  most  passing  strange, 
The  echo's  voice  died  not  away 
With  mine,  as  erst  it  did  alway, 
But  whispered  on,  and  this  did  say : 

"  Men  live  th^ir  little,  fleeting  hour  ; 

They  strive  and  war,  with  eyes  afrown ; 


DRIFTING3    IN   DREAMLAND.  91 

They  fill  the  earth  with  their  renown — • 
Sail  bold  and  well,  and  then  go  down 

"Into  the  hungry  sea  of  death. 

The  world  cries  out  an  hour  in  pain, 
Tlien  turns  to  war  and  strive  again ; 

And  I  alone  of  all  remain 

i 

"  And  what  am  I !     A  hollow  sound, 
And  empty,  cruel  mockery  ; 
Yet  all  of  life  is  found  in  me — 
Fit  type  of  unreality  ! " 


THE  COUNTRY  PARTY. 

IN  the  "West,  the  dying  day 
Burned  his  gold  to  ashes  red, 
Blew  the  ashes  with  his  breath 
On  the  clouds  that  hung  o'erhead. 

One  by  one  the  stars  shone  clear, 
As  we  hastened  on  our  way 
To  the  farm  house,  where  that  night 
Lads  and  maids  from  far  and  near 
Met  to  spend  in  mirth  and  play, 
Hours  that  sped  wi  h  hasty  flight 
On  their  light-winged,  happy  way. 

Came  the  lads  in  groups  together, 
Came  the  maids  by  twos  and  threes; 
Every  lad  in  se 'ret  fearing 
She,  of  all,  might  fail  to  come. 


92  DRIPTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Every  lassie  wondering  whether 

He  would  ask  to  see  her  home. 

Doubts,  like  May  skies,  quickly  clearing, 

Hers  the  form  he  soonest  sees, 

And  the  whispered  question  greets  her 

In  the  first  nook  where  he  meets  her. 

Soon  the  merry  games  begin 
With  an  "office"  full  of  letters. 
Brown-haired  lad  steps  prompt  within, 
And  the  dignified  postmaster 
Duly  charged,  a  lassie  calls, 
With,  "A  letter  here  for  you  !  " 
Beats  the  lassie's  pulses  faster, 
As  she  steps  within  to  get  her 
Swift-read,  sweat,  unwritten  letter! 
Then  to  write  a  fond  reply, 
Only,  strangest  of  it  all. 
Not  to  him  who  wrote  to  her 
Must  she  send  it.      No,  indeed ; 
Other  lips  must  come  and  read ; 
Forming  thus  a  circle  rare, 
For  once  formed  by  that  same  token 
Is  its  power  forever  broken. 
Follow  merry  forfeits  after  : 
"Heavy,  heavy/'  hanging  ever 
O'er  our  heads,  but  falling  never, 
For  'mid  ringing,  joyous  laughter, 
Oddest  penalties  are  paid 
To  redeem  unlucky  "fine/' 
While  tlie  blushing,  cv,ax:u^  maid 
Lighter  'scapes  for  "superfine.''' 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  93 

Then,  a  most  mysterious  thing, 

Two  wise  maids  declare  that  they 

Own  a  grand  menagerie, 

And  that  we  may  quickly  see 

Any  animal  desired 

If  we  will  but  blinded  be, 

And  by  fair  hands  captive  led. 

Every  one  of  course  is  fired, 

And  the  riddle  must  be  read. 

One  by  one  they  led  us  in 

With  the  strictest  secrecy  ; 

Came  my  turn,  and  when  they  asked 

What  fierce,  wild  beast  they  should  bring, 

For  a  while  my  brain  I  tasked, 

Then  I  called  for  "  baboon  straight/' 

Fell  the  bandage  off  my  pate, 

With  a  mirror  stood  an  elf, 

And  I  looked  and  saw — myself ! 

Followed  games  in  quick  succession  ; 
"Crooked  Answer"  to  "Cross  Question," 
"Bridge  of  Sighs,"  and  then  "Surprised;" 
Then  two  wights  we  "  Mesmerised  ;  " 
"Thimble,"  "Whistle,"  "Master  Simon;" 
"Hunt  the  Slipper,"  "Copenhagen;" 
"Scandal"  caused  a  precious  stir; 
Then  "Master  sent  me  to  you,  Sir." 
"  Proverbs"  followed  sagely  after, 
And  "  Seek  the  Ring"  'mid  ringing  laughter. 
A  "  Lawyer"  then  we  interviewed, 
And  a  "  Mummy"  acted  very  rude. 
A  "Prophet"  with  our  fates  did  chaff; 


94  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

And  then,  to  try  some  nobler  thing, 
We  formed  a  grave,  long-visaged  ring, 
And  had  a  "Scientific  Laugh  !" 

Ah,  how  swift  the  moments  fled 
With  the  old  folks  snug  in  bed, 
And  we  happy  youngsters  fre*i 
To  drink  deep  love's  sweet  witchery. 
Who  so  cold  as  to  resist 
With  red  lips  pouting  to  be  kissed  « 
Who  so  mailed  that  he  withstands 
Arrows  sped  by  such  fair  hands  ? 

Yet  whene'er  that  happy  time 
Borne  on  memory's  dreamy  ships, 
Backward  drifts,  as  drifts  the  rhyme, 
Prattled  o'er  by  childish  lips, 
One  swift  moment  I  recall, 
Sweetest,  dearest  of  them  all, 
When  before  her  fathers's  door, 
Where  the  stars  could  only  see, 
She,  my  beauteous  Eleanore, 
Gave  one  little  kiss  to  me ! 


TO 


PERHAPS  on  earth  I'll  ne'er  again  behold, 
With  eye  of  sense,  your  outward  form  and  semblaiu 
Therefore,  to  me,  you  never  will  grow  old, 
But  live,  forever  young,  in  my  remembrance. 


DRIFTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND.  95 

IN  SILENCE. 

TT7HERE  are  tears  we  dare  not  shed  which  are  bitterer  by  far, 
JL      In  their  aching,  ashen  burning,  than  the  freest  flowing 

are; 
There  are  griefs  we  must  keep  hidden  in  the  chambers  of  our 

heart 

That  ara  sharper  than  all  others  :  bring  a  keener,  deadlier  smart. 
And  the  wistful  silence  waiting  on  the  words  we  may  not  say, 
In  its  stillness,  holds  the  fullness  of  all  sorrows  on  our  way. 
For  the  surges  of  sad  dirges  half  efface  the  grief  they  tell, 
But  the  weary  woes  of  silence  list  in  vain  a  passing  knell. 

Yet  the  end  is  surely  coming,  and  a  brighter,  fairer  dawn 
Shall  illume  the  paths  of  darkness,  which  our  feet  now  grope 

upon. 

Not  for  aye  shall  grief  endure  :  pain  and  sorrow  will  have  fled. 
"Blessed   are   the   mourners,"  saith    He,   "for   they  shall  be 

comforted." 

And  we  clasp  the  promise  to  us  as  we  float  out  on  the  tide, 
For  we  may  at  least  forget  when  we  reach  the  other  side. 


BUT  THIS. 

TITHE  world  is  full  of  song 

J-      As  strong,  sweet  singers  sweep  the  sounding  strings 
With  chords,  fulfilled,  of  holy,  happy  things. 
I  list,  and  long 
But  this  ;  to  add  one  song — 


One  song  as  yet  unsung,  of  all  the  songs  they  sing. 

The  world  is  full  of  gooc 
As  brawny  arms  do  battle  for  the  Right,  tfjjF    ,««^[  V*  ^ 


, 
The  world  is  full  of  good 


*V«? 

c«i^ 


6  DRIFTINGS    IN    DREAMLAND. 

And  hydra-headed  evil  ceaseless  smite. 

I  watch  the  fray 

With  folded  arms ;  yet  sadly  pray 
But  this :  to  strike  one  blow,  ere  fades  my  transient  day. 


IN  THE  GLOAMING. 

Dow  night's  purple  mantle  falleth 
Softly  o'er  the  dying  day. 
And  the  wooing  twilight  calleth 
From  the  cares  of  life  away. 

And  we  lie  contented,  dreaming, 

In  the  restful,  tranquil  lull, 
Painting  scenes  through  fancy  gleaming, 

Distant,  flitting,  beautiful. 

Hark  !  a  song  we  loved  in  childoood, 

From  afar,  floats  to  our  ear. 
Bringing  meadow,  glen  and  wildwood, 

Drifting  on  the  notes  anear. 

Peopling  silent  halls  with  faces 

That  have  long  slept  with  the  dead, 

Yet  within  our  hearts  whose  places 
Still  remain  untenanted. 

Broken  dreams  of  joy  or  sorrow, 
Fade  before  night's  thickening  ray. 

Let  us  rest,  and  meet  to-morrow 
With  the  hope  born  of  to-day. 


DRIFTINGS   IN  DREAMLAND. 

IVY. 

TlAMiLY-laden, 

-F   Wee,  wise  maiden 
Knits  her  brow  in  dainty  knots. 

How  to  dolly 

Cure  of  folly 
Occupies  her  busy  thoughts. 

"  Dolly's  wet  her 

Feet,  to  get  her 
Posies  in  the  morning  dew. 

Sure  to  be  sick — 

Cold  or  colic ; 
Like  as  not  the   measles,  too ! 

"  There  is  Freddy 

Always  ready 
Into  awful  'fairs  to  fall : 

Bad  as  Rosy — 

Doodness  I 
Don't  know  how  to  manage,  'tall  1 

"  Jack  or  Norah's 

Telled  a  story  ! 
One  or  t'uver's  ate  ma's  cake  ; 

While  there's  silly 

Greedy  Willy 
Got  a  drefful  stomach  ache  1 

"  Naughty  Bessie 
Tored  her  dress  ;  she 
Wants  anuver  one,  I  spose ; 
I  tell  you  what, 


98  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

It  takes  a  lot 
Of  work  to  keep  my  dolls  in  t'lose  I 

Look,  she  lays  her 

Down  by  Caesar — 
"What  can  be  the  matter  now  ? 

Blue  eyes  closing, 

Winking,  dozing, 

Wee,  white  hands  and  lily  brow- 
Cheeks  so  waxen. 

Tresses  flaxen, 
Footstep,  that  a  fairy's  seems — 

All  now  wander 

Over  yonder, 
In  the  happy  land  of  dreams  1 

CONTENTMENT. 

fTTHERE  is  an  island  hidden  far 
JL    Beyond  the  gray  horizon's  rim 
And  sometimes  wandering  ships  there  are 
Who  see  its  shores  rise,  white  and  dim. 

And  some  have  turned  them  from  their  way, 
With  wistful  eyes,  and  sailed  anigh  ; 

And  looked  and  longed  a  Summer's  day — 
Then  passed  the  isle  forever  by. 

Of  these,  some  said,  on  grassy  banks 
Stood  palaces,  all  white  and  fair ; 

And  tropic  trees,  in  stately  ranks, 

And  gold,  and  precious  stones  were  there. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

And  others  said  :     Nob  so  ;  the  isle 
Resounds  but  to  the  trump  of  fame, 

Where  legions  strive  for  fortune's  smile, 
And  honor's  death-surviving  name. 

And  others,  weary-eyed,  did  see 

Fair  homes,  where  wives  and  children  were  j 
Said  others  :  There  green  woodlands  be, 

Afar  from  every  haunt  of  care. 

And  each  sighed  :    Oh,  that  I  might  cast 

My  anchor  in  its  coral  bays  ! 
My  life  would  be  fulfilled  at  last, 

And  peace  be  mine,  through  all  my  days  ! 

But  some  there  were  who  from  the  rest 

Stood  sa:l  apart,  and  silently; 
Yet  questioned  close,  at  last  confessed 

That  they  had  touched  its  shores,  one  day. 

"A  cruel  mirage,"  whispered  these, 
"Where  many  a  vision  fair  is  shown  ; 

But  all  who  reach  its  bovvers  of  ease 
Find  burning  wastes  of  sand  alone  ! " 

EL  CABO  DE  TODOS. 

7FXDER  the  pines  where  the  zephyrs  blew  by 
^     Filled  with  faint  fragrance  of  sweet-smelling  gum, 
And  odors  of  delicate  flowers  anigh, 

He  stood,  and  dreamed  of  the  days  to  come. 
Fair  as  the  isles  of  Hespe  rides 

A  future  of  wealth  and  fame  upsprung ; 


ioo  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

And  o'er  and  o'er,  like  a  pulse  of  the  seas, 

His  heart  beat  loud,  "  I  am  young ;  I  am  young  ! " 

Under  an  oak,  in  the  Summer  heat, 

With  a  bird  glancing  down,  with  a  side-turned  head, 
And  the  breeze  filled  with  perfume  of  maize  and  wheat, 

He  stood,  and  in  used  o'er  the  years  that  had  fled. 
His  dreams  of  wealth  had  faded  away, 

And  fame  had  passed  by,  like  a  street-caroled  song ; 
Yet  fairer  than  they  seemed  contentment  to-day, 

And  his  heart  beat  firm,  "I  am  strong;  I  am  strong  ! 


o 


Under  the  willow,  whose  quivering  leaves 

Tremble  and  shake,  like  an  old  man's  hands, 
\yiiere  the  only  odor  the  wind  receives 

Is  the  earthy  scent  of  the  fallowed  lands, 
He  stands,  and  mumbles  a  broken  thread 

Of  words,  as  rosary  beads  are  told ; 
His  dreams,  unrealized,  all  are  dead, 

And  his  heart  feebly  beats,  u  I  am  old ;  I  am  old ! 


ARMAGEDDON. 

LO,  EARTH  is  portsntious  with  omens, 
And  the  skies  answer  back  with  a  frown ; 
Men  whisper  distrustful ;  and  no  man 
Secure  lieth  down. 

For  the  mutter  of  gathering  legions 

Is  heard  from  mounta  in  to  sea  ; 
Near  at  hand,  and  from  far-away  regions — 
Wherever  men  be. 


DRIFTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND. 

Not  for  battles  of  czars,  kings  or  princes, 

Where  brother  'gainst  brother  is  led, 
But  the  desperate  fight  for  existence — 
The  struggle  for  bread  ! 

For  the  lordlings  and  rich  scourge  and  flay  us, 

And  squander  the  fruits  of  our  toil ; 
And  our  rulers  despise  and  betray  us, 
And  bind  us  for  spoil. 

Our  teachers  corrupt  and  delude  us ; 

Our  counselors  lead  us  astray  ; 
Our  law-makers  strip  and  denude  us ; 
Our  priests — wha.t  are  they  ? 

Their  souls,  lean  with  longings  and  famine, 

They  cry  up,  and  offer  for  sale ; 
They  are  bought  with  the  lucre  of  Mammon, 
They  are  prophets  of  Baal ! 


UNRECOGNIZED. 

banyan  tree,  in  Afric  lands, 
A  traveller  rested  from  the  heat. 
Half  buried  in  the  burning  sands, 

A  pebble  sparkled  at  his  feet. 
He  picked  it  up,  and  toyed  with  it ; 

Tossed  it  aloft,  in  idle  play, 
Then  in  a  dreamy,  absent  fit, 

He  careless  threw  it  far  away. 
He  who  had  roamed  o'er  every  land, 

With  thirst  for  gold  his  only  guide^y  ^y 4 


102  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

When  it  lay  fair  within  his  hand, 
The  wealth  of  Ind  had  nung  aside  I 

Within  her  bower  a  maiden  fair 

Lay,  dreaming  of  a  love  to  be ; 
A  love  as  pure  as  lilies  are, 

As  constant  as  the  changeless  sea. 
And  while  she  dreamed,  that  summer  morn, 

A  lover  came  and  knelt  to  her ; 
She  laughed  his  humble  suit  to  scorn, 

And  banished  thus  her  worshiper. 
She  who  but  dreamed  as  poets  do 

Of  love  alone,  the  live-long  day, 
Now  failed  to  recognize  the  true, 

And  cast  her  whole  life's  love  away  ! 

0,  blind,  blind  Fate,  thou  leadest  men 

By  ways  too  hard  to  understand  ! 
Thy  mysteries  we  cannot  ken, 

Nor  loose  the  grip  of  thy  strong  hand. 
0,  goddess  cruel,  goddess  blind  ! 

Thou  who  hast  led  us  all  our  days, 
Art  sure  that  thou  the  way  canst  find, 

That  lies  beyond  life's  tangled  maze  ? 
See,  thou  hast  wrecked  full  many  a  ship 

By  steering  where  wild  waves  o'ervvhelm ; 
Oh,  loosen,  then,  thy  fatal  grip 

And  to  our  hands  resign  the  helm ! 


YOUTHFUL  POBMS. 


POSSESSION. 

THOU  art  mine  own,  0  love  !     Thy  heart 
Beats  time  to  mine,  with  throbbings  sweet 
And  musical  as  coming  feet 
Of  loved  ones,  after  years  apart. 

Thou  art  mine  own,  0  sweet !     Thy  lips 
Melt  into  mine,  with  kisses  rare 
As  Arab's  magic  balm,  that  slips 

Straight  to  the  heart,  to  banish  care. 

Thou  are  mine  own,  0  fond  !     Thy  head 
Resting  so  lightly  on  my  breasfc 
Brings  dreams  as  rare  as  ever  sped 

To  bless  a  wanderer's  toil-won  rest. 


IN  GOLDEN  GATE  PARK. 

V\AY,do  nob  turn  away  your  head, 

-*-£     Love ;  I  must  speak,  and  you  shall  hear  ! 

Here,  'midst  this  faint,  sweet  perfume,  clear, 
I  cannot  leave  one  word  unsaid. 

Will  you  still  stand,  with  drooping  lid, 

And  lips,  where  frowns  such  pretty  pout  1 
Nay,  I  will  kiss  their  shadow  out; 

See,  we  are  flower-engulfed,  and  hid  ! 


io6  DRIFTINGS   IN  DREAMLAND. 

For  if  you  wished  that  I  should  go 

With  all  my  love  sealed  in  my  heart — 
A  tomb  grass-grown,  unknown,  apart — 

You  had  not  brought  me  here,  I  know. 

For  this  is  love's  own  dream  of  love, 

Voiced  into  life ;  these  splendid  banks, 
So  starry-hued,  are  serried  ranks 

Of  votaries  his  truth  that  prove  ! 

And  here,  amid  the  pines  and  firs, 

'Neath  drooping  fuschias,  all  aflame 
With  love's  delicious,  tender  shame, 

And  incense  on  each  breath  that  stirs 

Of  roses,  and  of  mignonette, 

Of  larkspurs,  ranged  with  martial  pride, 
In  purple  hoods,  the  way  beside, 
And  of  the  blue-eyed  violet, 

Love,  I  must  speak,  or  faint  and  die  ! 

For  I  have  loved  you,  loved  you  so, 
With  love  as  pure  as  is  the  snow 

Of  these  white  lilies,  sailing  by. 

(0,  breath  of  balmy,  tropic  air, 

O,  maze  of  plantain  and  of  palm, 

O,  sleeping  ferns,  your  wondrous  calm 

Is  as  a  spirit's,  freed  from  care  ! ) 

(0,  birds,  that  warble  tuneful  lays, 

O,  gold-fish,  swimming  soft  below, 
Your  lives  are  dreams  of  love,  I  know, 

And  peace,  and  joy  haunt  all  your  days  ! ) 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  107 

And  here  'mid  beauty's  regal  reign, 

Where  this  fair  Park,  sea-girt,  yet  free, 
Reaches  white  fingers  to  the  .sea, 

Which  leans  and  yearns  to  her  again. 

Sweet,  you  shall  surely  answer  !  Hark  ! 
O,  voice,  low-tuned  to  lover's  ear, 
"I  cannot  say  thee  nay  here,  dear  !" 

Now,  heaven  bless  the  Golden  Park  i 


A  PICTURE. 

sit  you  here,  and  I  will  paint 
Your  picture,  fair  and  true,  for  you. 
For  poets  must  be  painters,  too  ; 
And  some  are  grand  ones;  some  are  quaint; 
And  many  paint  so  strangly  true. 

Yes,  you  are  beautiful.     A  brow 

As  white  as  snow  white  lilies  are ; 

And  large,  blue  eyes,  enshaded  now, 

Now  gazing  absently  afar  ; 

A  mouth  so  like  a  rose-bud,  ripe 

From  sun  kiss  and  the  rain  s  warm  love ; 

A  face  of  Greece's  oval  type 

From  pointed  chin  to  brow  above ; 

A  swan-like  neck  ;  a  sylph-like  form  ; 

A  skin  as  satin  soft  and  warm — 

All,  alt  are  beautiful ;  but,  hold  ! 

(A  painter  close  and  hard  must  look,) 

That  snow-white  brow  as  snow  is  cold, 

And  selfish  lines,  as  in  a  book, 


io8  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Are  written  there ;  and  in  your  eyes 
There  is  a  cunning,  inward  look, 
As  though  in  men  you  had  no  faith, 
But  met  their  lies  with  other  lies 
Which  sweeter  were  to  you  than  truth  ! 

0  those  hard  eyes — how  plain  are  writ 
Lines  which  no  man  can  e'er  mistake  ! 
Your  love,  a  feeble  reed,  will  break 
And  pierce  him  through  who  leans  on  it. 
For  like  a  vane,  with  fickle  whim, 

You  veer  to  every  passing  breeze. 
Your'God  is  Self,  and  e'en  in  him 
You  put  no  trust  nor  faith,  Louise. 

And  I  have  loved  you.     I  who  bring 
The  deep  love  of  a  child  of  song  ; 
For  to  the  throng  of  those  who  sing 
By  many  a  tie  I  do  belong. 
By  birthright ;  by  the  blood  that  runs 
From  Scotia's  hills,  in  fiery  strains, 
And  heated  hot  'neath  Southland  suns 
Leaps  fast  and  dizzy  through  my  veins  ; 
By  that  baptismal  font  of  fire 
Where  Sorrow  consecrates  her  own, 
When,  faint  from  unattained  desire, 
They  kneel  low  at  her  sable  throne  ; 
By  that  proud  will  of  those  who  dare 
To  look  on  that  Throne's  dazzling  light 
And  question  Him  who  sitteth  there 
If  earth  is  ruled  by  Wrong  or  Right ; 
By  each  of  these,  by  more  than  these, 

1  know  well  what  I  arn.      Alas  ! 


DRIFTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND.  109 

You  are  so  far  beneath,  Louise, 
And  I  have  loved  you  :  let  it  pass. 

No  mantle  old  of  prophecy 
Upon  my  shoulders  needs  to  fall, 
No  wierd,  strange  gift  of  minstrelsy 
To  aid  my  ken  have  I  to  call, 
To  read  the  fate  that  waits  for  you 
As  waits  the  dead  the  funeral  pall. 
While  beauty  s  flame  is  yet  alight 
Weak  moths  will  circle  near  its  glare, 
But  when  that  light  is  set  in  night, 
How  dark  will  be  your  desp  despair ! 
How  you  will  barn  with  bitter  moan 
That  man  just  claims  ha^  upon  man, 
And  who  live  for  themselves  alone 
Must  die  alone,  as  best  they  can  ! 
When  you  are  loveless,  friendless,  old, 
Will  you  look  back  and  long  for  these  1 
it  may  be  not ;  you  are  so  cold 
You  may  not  care  at  all,  Louise  1 


RETRIBUTION. 

O'OFTLY  the  moonmist  fell  down  and  enshrouded  you, 
^     Wrapped  you  around  with  its  silvery  light. 
Passionless,  cold  as  the  beams  that  beclouded  you, 
Turned  you  away  from  my  pleading  that  night — • 
Turned  my  day  into  night ! 

I  who  from  sorrow's  dark  portals  had  fled  to  you, 
Eled  at  your  call,  as  a  moth  to  the  light. 


no  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Himg'rmg  for  love's  long-delayed  feast,  I  sped  to  you, 
Sped  as  the  blind  sped  of  old  for  their  sight — 
To  the  Master  for  sight. 

Then  for  a  time,  like  a  pleased  child,    you  toyed  with  me  — 
Filling  my  soul  with  a  maddening  delight ; 

Not  for  a  moment  I  dreamed  you  were  cloyed  with  me, 
Not  till  the  moonrays  enrobed  you  that  night 
With  their  cold,  loveless  light. 

Wounded  to  daath,  then  I  turned  me  away  from  you, 
Turned  as  the  Lost  turn  from  heaven's  sweet  light. 

Bitter  as  seemed  it  forever  to  stay  from  you, 
Bitterer  far  to  remain  in  your  sight, 
In  your  cold,  cruel  sight. 

So.      As  one  walks  among  tombs  am  I  wandering, 
Plucking  Daai  Sea  fruit  from  morn  until  night. 
Daily  my  Wrthright  for  pottage  am  squandering, 
For  the  blighted  must  blight. 

Arid  you — Life  is  naught  but  a  ripple  of  song  to  you. 
Lover  moths,  fresh,  are  e'er  seeking  your  light. 

Yet  sometime  !  I  envy  not  thoughts  which  must  throng  to  you 
When  the  tide  turns  and  life  ebbs  into  night — 
Black,  desolate  night. 

AFTER  CHURCH. 

Where  a  tiny  path 

Threaded  through  the  heather, 

Lizzie  walked  with  me — - 
Very  close  together. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DRKAMLAND. 


Ill 


Bluebells  nodded  wisely 

To  the  daisies,  lowly, 
As  they  watched  us,  going 

Hom3  so  slowly,  slowly. 
Aye  ;  they  nodded,  nodded, 

Till  their  heads  were  dizzy, 
Did  they  know  she  loved  me, 

Witching,  winsome  Lizzie  ? 
Yet  I  durst  not  ask  them — 

She  had  heard  me,  surely ; 
Maiden  at  my  side, 

Walking  so  demurely. 
So  we  passed  along 

Through  the  feathery  heather, 
Talking  of  the  fashions, 

Talking  of  the  weather. 
Saying  naught  of  loving, 

Though  my  thoughts  were  busy 
Conning  something  over 

I  must  tell  to  Lizzie, 
When  we  reached  the  gate, 

Suddenly  bold-hearted, 
Plead  I  for  a  kiss — 

Just  one — ere  we  parted. 
O'er  her  swept  a  thrill — 

Would  she  chide,  resist  me  1 
Sudden,  while  I  doubted, 

Tiptoed  she,  and  kissed  me  ! 

Kissed,  and  ran  away 

Both  ere  scarce  I  knew  it, 

Fond,  yet  half  in  terror 
That  she  e'er  should  do  it. 


H2  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

And  I  walked  blithe  back, 

With  the  daisies  wond'ring 
Why  I  seemed  so  happy 

O'er  such  sudden  sund'ring. 
But  a  saucy  bluebird 

Stoutly  did  insist  him — 
Chirruped  loud,  "  I  know, 

Lizzie  kissed  him,  kissed  him  !" 

WINONA. 

SHIMMER  of  star  glints;  a  heaven  of  amber, 
Arching  the  brilliants  of  God's  diadem  : 
Dim  outlines  of  meadows  whose  uncertain  shadows 
Change  and  shift,  as  we  gaze,  like  an  opaline  gem. 

A  song  in  the  wind,  as  of  far-away  singer 

Low  voicing  a  joy  that  will  not  be  controlled ; 

A  hinting  of  perfumes,  that  loiter  and  linger ; 
A  dream  that  links  heaven  and  earth  in  its  hold. 

For  she  stood  beside  me,  while,  breeze-blown  and  lightly, 
Her  curls  tossed  and  rippled  against  my  fond  breast ; 

As  with  pretty  rebellion,  so  faintly,  so  lightly, 
The  beautiful  head  fluttered  down  to  its  rest. 

Then  the  stars  drifted  up  from  the  East,  and  then  over ; 

And  the  meadows  grew  gray  wastes  of  shadowy  swells ; 
And  the  song  in  the  wind,  as  it  swept  o'er  the  clover, 

Changed  into  the  clamor  of  glad  wedding  bells. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  113 

A  DREAM  OF  THE  TROPICS. 

BRET  of  surf,  which  ceaseth  never 
From  its  moaning,  soft  and  low ; 
Lap  of  tides,  which  ever,  ever 

Com 3  and  go,  come  and  go ; 
Emerald-vestured  shores  of  coral, 

Broidered  rich  with  golden  beams ; 
Forests  dumb,  or  only  oral 

With  the  voiceless  tones  of  dreams ; 
Lo  !  with  slow  steps,  doubting  taken, 

To  your  peaceful  shrines  E  come. 
Let  me  not  your  dreams  awaken ; 

I  am  dumb;  I  am  dumb. 

Strange,  rare  songsters  flit  before  me, 

Noiseless  as  the  shadows  creep, 
And,  in  star-crowned  palm  trees  o'er  me, 

Leaf-hid,  sit  in  dreamless  sleep ; 
Dew-kissed,  incense-breathing  flowers 

Scatter  perfume  as  I  tread  ; 
Wild,  blue  creepers  twine  o'er  bowers 

With  white  lilies  carpeted  ; 
Cockatoos,  rare  green  and  golden, 

Climbing,  swing  by  amber  beak ; 
Or,  among  the  branches  olden, 

Hide  and  seek ;  hide  and  seek. 

At  my  feet  the  gray  Iguanas 

Startled,  ope  dim  eyes  of  pearls, 
Glide  and  hide  where  dense  bananas 

Thrust  their  crowding,  clustering  whorls  ; 
Oranges,  gold-dusted,  yellow, 


"4  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

Tempt  me  with  their  fruitage  sweet; 
Drooping  plantains,  creamy,  mellow, 

Whisper,  "  Eat ;  take  and  eat !  " 
Palms  with  milk-full  cocoas  laden, 

Drop  their  nuts  with  rustling  clink ; 
Saying,  "  Toil  not ;   here  is  Aiclenn  ; 

Take  and  drink  ;  take  and  drink  !" 

'Mid  the  pure  white  lily  ocean, 

Lovely,  brown-skinned  maidens  move ; 
Every  graceful,  sylph-like  motion 

Breathing,  "  Love ;  look,  and  love  ! " 
Voices  soft  as  echo,  calling 

O'er  and  o'er  its  low  replies ; 
Warm,  round  bosoms,  rising,  falling, 

With  love  s  rapt,  delighted  sighs  ; 
Soul-pure  di  earners,  knowing  never 

Blush  of  shame  or  sting  of  sin, 
Dream  on  ;  dream  sweet  dreams  forever  j 

Only  pause  and  dream  me  in ! 

UNREST. 

OH,  the  weary,   weary  yearning  burning  through  my  heart 
and  brain ! 

Beat  my  pulses  dirge-like  throbbings,  sobbings  of  a  stifled  pain  : 
For  my  love  is  still  delaying,  staying  all  these  empty  years. 
Though  I've  waited  patient,  trusting,  thrusting  back  hot,  un 
wept  tears. 

Fades  the  Spring  to  Summer  weary,  dreary  comes  brown  Au 
tumn  then ; 
Bitter  winds  of  Winter  blow,  and  lo  !  the  Spring  is  here  again 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  115 

Bringing  only  with  its  coming,  humming  of  a  far-off  song — 
Love-song  of  a  maiden  saintly,  faintly  borne  the  breeze  along. 

Bloom  the  roses  in  the  valleys,  dallies  each  with  lover  fond ; 
Stoops  the  breeze  to  kiss  the  lily,  stilly  nestling  on  the  pond ; 
Every  dove  his  love  is  wooing,  cooing  o'er  the  building  nest, 
And  the  robin's  notes  are  trilling,  thrilling  through  his  mate's 
fond  breast. 

Only  I  am  lorn  and  lonely,  only  I  am  desolate ; 

Hasten,    then,  long-tarrying  maiden,    laden  with  my  song  of 

fate. 
Hasten  for  the  years  are   hasting,  wasting  like  the  snows  of 

June — 
Come,    and  still  my  life's  harsh  discords    and  my  soul    with 

thine  attune  1 


SONNET.— ACROSTIC. 

TTfO  FEEL  that  life  is  sweet ;  to  hear 
A.      One  endless  song  the  long  day  through, 
Low  toned  and  soft,  as  when  from  far, 
O'er  moonlit  waters,  deep  and  blue, 
Vespers  of  eve  float  to  the  ear, 
Encantring  joys  of  pregnant  yeara 
In  one  sharp  hour  of  present  bliss 
Sweet  as  an  age  of  heaven  is  ! 
To  love  till  life,  and  love  grow  one — 
Oh,  this  is  life,  and  only  this. 
Life  which  before  was  barren  grain 
Impregnate  is  by  love's  warm  sun  ; 
VaticinaL  it  shall  remain 
E'en  till  eternal  life  is  done  1 


n6  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

A  BURIAL  HYMN. 

DEAD.     Let  the  days  as  with  Autumn  leaves  cover  it ; 
Days  blown  like  leaves  from  the  great  tree  of  Time. 
Bid  the  light  breezes  to  chant  dirges  over  it ; 
Bid  frosts  to  enshroud  it  with  delicate  rime. 

Dead.     Will  it  ever  be  covered,  be  hidden, 

This  love,  o'er  which  dead  days  are  sighing  and  falling  1 
Will  the  sharp  gusts  of  memory,  unwelcome,  unbidden, 

For  aye  lift  the  pall,  with  such  cruel  recalling  1 

Dead.     Do  dull  dirges  drown  doubt's  dumb  despairing 
When,  heart-faint  and  hopeless,  we  bury  our  dead  1 

Shall  I  ever  forget  1     Shall  I  sometime  cease  caring  1 
Oh,  answer,  y cleaves  that  I  crush  with  my  tread  ! 


ADIOS. 


"ITT0  GOD-"     The  Spaniard's  soft  good  bye 

-*•      Seems  fittest  for  the  parting  word, 
The  sad,  sad  word,  which  must  be  heard 
While  men  shall"  live  and  love,  and  die. 
We  dreamed  the  old,  old  dream  a  time; 
We  heard  the  old,  old  wooing  song ; 
The  hours  we  weaved  in  happy  rhyme, 
And  days  were  years,  and  years  were  long, 
And  full  of  joy  as  clinging  kiss 
Which  meed  of  faithful  waiting  is  ! 

"To  God."     For  us  the  sounding  sea 
Shall  make  no  more  sweet  melody. 


DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND.  n? 

No  more  its  waves  drime  soothing  songs, 
Nor  proud  ships  float  its  tides  along ; 
No  more  shall  birds  sing  soft ;  no  more 
Fair  flowers  spring  our  paths  before. 

Ah,  well !     What  other  dreams  we  dream, 
Still  strangely  sweet  will  this  one  seem — 
This  one  dead  dream,  which  now  we  lay 
So  deep  within  its  grave  away. 

May  roses  bloom  above  the  sod, 

And  thou— 0,  lost,  my  love,  "To  God  1" 


IN  AN  ALBUM. 

JTTHis  experience  has  taught  me ;  that  we  on  the  beach 
-*•      Of  friendship's  wide  ocean  our  names  are  e'er  tracing, 
Nor  heed  that  time's  tide,  in  its  next  hungry  reach, 
As  fast  as  we  write  our  fond  words  is  effacing. 

Yet  sometimes  the  sands  change  to  stone,  and  the  trace 
Remains  firm  and  clear  throughout  ages  and  ages. 

So  affection's  fond  lines  time  can  never  efface 

Though  Death  lay  his  hand  on  the  heart's  folded  pages. 


IN  RETROSPECT. 

OSOUL,  I  speak  you  fair  to-night, 
5     As  one  would  with  a  brother  speak, 
For  I  am  faint  of  heart,  and  weak, 
And  cannot  see  my  way  aright. 


il8  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

When  I  am  weak,  thou  must  be  strong, 
And  take  the  helm  with  steady  hand, 
For  we  have  sailed  together  long, 
And  both  must  sink,  or  both  make  land  ! 
O'er  what  strange  seas  have  we  not  roamed, 
What  fierce  storms  we  have  weathered  through, 
What  fair,  green  isles  dawned  to  our  view, 
What  bleak,  bare  coasts  a-lee  have  loomed ! 

Yet  would  not  I,  if  I  might  choose 
To  trace  the  same  track  out  again, 
Or  still  drift  on  an  unknown  main, 
The  unknown  for  the  known  refuse. 
No ;  life  has  not  been  good  to  me — 
Nor  yet  has  it  been  over  bad. 
The  joys  and  griefs  which  it  has  had 
Have  fallen  not  unequally. 
If  sorrow'  s  waves  have  o'er  me  rolled, 
So  pleasures,  too,  have  filled  my  sail 
With  perfumed  winds,  from  forests  old 
As  time,  and  dripping,  like  white  hail, 
Their  fragrant  gums.      Then  will  not  I 
Lift  hand,  nor  make  complaining  cry 
E'en  tho'  I  sink  o'er  whelmed  and  die. 

For  life  unchastened  yet  by  woe, 
By  sorrow  unbaptized,  and  grief, 
Not  yet  is  life.     We  cannot  know — 
Nay,  to  the  deepest  springs  of  life 
Pale  sorrow  shows  alone  the  way. 
And  whom  she  farthest  leads  are  they 
Who  best  know  why  this  fitful  gleam 


DRIFTIN 


Of  consciousness,  this  passing  dream 
Is  given  us  ;  who  penetrate 
Somewhat  the  gloom  enshrouding  fate— 
In  her  dark  rites  Initiate  ! 


DRIFT  WITH  THE  TIDE. 

raIIEREFORE  should  we  pull  weary  oar 
Against  the  tide  that  bears  us  on, 
When,  of  the  shores  that  lie  before, 
We  know  not  which  we'll  drift  upon? 
For  aught  we  know  our  boats  will  go, 
Straight  steered,  if  slow,  to  fairy  seas, 
Where  tropic  trees  give  to  the  breeze 
Sweet  perfume,  as  with  dreamy  ease 
We  glide  by  isles  where  Summer  smiles, 
And  joy  beguiles  forever  more. 

Nay,  looking  back  along  our  track 
Or  bright  or  black,  through  life's  wide  sea, 
Have  our  own  hands  held  fa^t  the  helml 
Are  we  now  where  we  thought  to  be  ? 
Some  steered  for  Pleasure's  rose-strewn  shores, 
Some  sailed  for  Duty's  rock-bound  coast ; 
For  greed  or  gain  some  pulled  strong  oars, 
And  some  sought  storms — glad  to  be  lost. 
Yet  these  the  waves  would  not  o'erwhelm, 
And  those,  who  have  not  gone  awreck, 
Drift  wide  their  hopes,  at  fate's  sterm  beck. 

One  unshipped  oars  and  set  a  sail, 

And  said,  "  Let  North  or  South  winds  blow, 


iao  DRIFTINGS   IN    DREAMLAND. 

My  boat  shall  sail  before  the  gale ; 
And  where  it  blows,  there  will  I  go." 
Lo  !  fairies  shaped  each  envious  breeze 
To  guide  that  helmless  boat  aright; 
It  drifted  straight  to  dreamy  seas, 
Shored  in  by  lands  of  strange  delight. 
Oh,  when  before  may  lie  such  shore, 
Wherefore,  O  tired,  pull  weary  oar  ? " 


MADONNA  MIA. 

OTHE  love  of  loving  woman  ! 
5     Who  can  tell, 
Who  can  measure  or  compute 
All  the  heights  and  depths  it  reaches, 
All  the  paths  its  rays  illumine  ! 

How  like  reaching,  clinging  tendril 
Of  the  vine, 

Silently  and  softly  twining, 
Hiding  'neath  its  leafy  veil 
Where  our  rugged  natures  fail. 
And  the  wine 

Of  its  crushed  and  bleeding  fruit 
How  it  floweth  red,  and  goeth 
Straightway  to  our  thirsty  hearts, 
Warming,  thrilling  in  its  filling  ! 
Sin  may  mar  it, 
Yet  it  sits  a  desolate  queen- 
Sits  a  pale,  mute  Magdalene, 
Beady,  swift  at  mercy's  call 


S   IN    DREAMLAND.  121 


To  atone  its  awful  fall. 
Not  the  chill  of  prison  bars, 
Not  the  taint  of  crime  or  shame, 
Tho'  the  world's  fierce  howling  jars, 
Can  obscure  or  dim  its  flame. 

Let  it  burn  | 

In  its  strength  we  faintly  see 

Type  of  that  unfathomed  love 

Which  above 

Holds  within  its  boundless  sea 

Promise  of  eternity  ! 

EVENING  AND  MORNING. 

T  AST  night  the  sun  sank  red  ;  the  sky, 
•H     Purpled  and  mottled  as  with  human  gore, 
Frowned  back  his  lurid  glances  ;  saw  him  die, 
And  bade  him  bitter  speed,  and  I  —  • 

I  cried,  "O,  sun,  sink  now  for  aye;  wake  me  to  pain  no 
more  !  " 

This  morn  he  rose,  with  brilliant  hues, 

And  nature  —  all  forgotten  last  eve's  mood  — 

Greeted  him  gladly  ;  did  not  e'en  refuse 

Her  rosiest  kisses.     How  could  I  but  choose 

To  heed  the  lesson  ;  to  forget  past  woes  in  present  good  ! 


122  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

FICKLE  SORROW. 

ONCE  a  fairy  called  Hope,  came  and  dwelt  in  my  heart, 
And  cheerily  sang  all  one  long  Winter's  day ; 
And,  softly  I  said,  "Thou  wilt  never  depart, 

For  love  with  his  charms  shall  compel  thee  to  stay." 
So  I  built  her  a  throne, 
And  crowned  her  a  queen ; 
And  a  fairer,  I  ween, 
Than  mine  was  there  none. 

But  the  morning  brought  Spring,  with  its  buds  and  its  flowers, 

And  my  Hope  grew  aweary  of  crown  and  of  throne ; 
And  longed  for  new  kingdoms,  new  blossoms,  new  bowers, 
And  ever  sighed,  plaintive,  "  Oh,  let  me  be  gone  1 " 
But  I  answered  her  Nay  ; 
And  bade  Love  forge  a  chain 
She  might  not  snap  in  twain, 
And  so  bound  her  for  aye. 

Then  I  called  Love,  and  said  :  "Be  thou  keeper,  and  see 

That  our  captive  has  all  heart  can  ask ; 
None  can  teach  her  but  thou  not  too  long  to  be  free, 
So  do  thou,  gentle  Love,  take  this  task. 
Alas,  1  know  not 
How  cruel  Love  is  ! 
How  he  slays  with  a  kiss 
When  that  kiss  is  unsought ! 

And  so,  ere  I  dreamed  it,  my  sweet  Hope  was  dead ; 

And  gently  I  loosened  the  chain, 
That  but  bound  a  pale  corse,  whose  spirit  had  fled 

Forever  from  me,  and  her  pain. 


DRIFTINGS    IN    DREAMLAND.  123 

So  I  built  her  a  tomb 
In  my  heart,  leal  and  true ; 
Shut  out  from  my  view, 
Shut  in  by  deep  gloom. 

Then  Sorrow  I  charged  with  its  keeping,  and  said : 

"See.  I  wander  for  rest  far  away ; 
Keep  sacred  this  chamber  where  lieth  my  dead 
Till  the  time  of  my  coming,  I  pray." 
Then  the  moments  new  by 
Till  a  year  had  been  told ; 
And  the  world  seemed  less  cold ; 
Less  dark  the  blue  sky. 

Then  Sorrow  I  called,  and  again  sought  the  gloom 

Of  my  tomb.      Lo,  no  tomb  was  there  ! 
Only  warbling  of  song-birds  and  roses  in  bloom, 
And  perfume  and  joy  in  the  air  ! 

Not  a  stone  marked  my  deadj 
And  I  turned  fierce  around 
To  chide  Sorrow,  and  found 
That  she,  too,  had  fled  ! 


A  FRAGMENT. 

ICCTTND  I  am  old,  and  life  for  me 

/•••     Has  naught  of  love  nor  hope  nor  joy  1 
Nay  ;  ne'er  were  years  so  fair,  so  free 

From  all  that  love  and  hope  destroy. 

For  when  I  ceased  to  strive  and  war, 
Lo  !  life  no  more  flung  bloody  gage ; 


124  DRIFTINGS   IN   DREAMLAND. 

But  bade  me  lift  mine  eyes  afar 
And  view  my  glorious  heritage. 

The  joy  that  shines  in  her  pure  eyes 

Whose  marriage  morn  her  lover  brings ; 

Of  her  who  bends  her,  tender  wise, 
And  o'er  her  first  born  softly  sings ; 

The  thrill  of  those  who  hear  once  more 
The  echoes  of  the  hastening  tread, 

When  frozen  deep  or  coral  shore 

Reluctant  yield  those  mourned  as  dead — 

All,  all  are  mine  !     I  hear  the  songs 

Of  lovers  who  have  their  own  have  won ; 

Glad  paeans  over  righted  wrongs ; 
Soft  dirges  o  er  a  fallen  one. 

And  so  I  sit,  with  folded  hands, 
Contented,  on  life's  utmost  shore; 

I  see  the  loom  of  shining  lands, 
I  wait  the  boat  that  bears  me  o'er. 

And,  waiting,  turn  with  tender  care, 

Life's  leaves,  grown  yellow  now  and  dim. 

On  every  page  fair  records  are 

Of  love  to  me  and  mine  from  Him. 

There  is  no  grief .     Lo,  unbelief 

May  wince  beneath  the  chastening  rod ; 

But  faith  beneath  the  trial  brief 
Discerns  the  upward  path  to  God. 


DRIFTINGS  IN  DREAMLAND.  125 

There  is  no  pain.     Lo,  life  again 

Takes  up  the  burden  of  its  song, 
And  faith  and  hope  and  trust  remain 

To  light  the  soul  its  way  along. 

A   MEMORY. 

CTT  SMALL  white  hand,  whose  timid  touch 

yJ-      Conceals  so  much,  reveals  so  much  ; 

A  face  lit  with  the  tender  pride 

Of  not  one  wish  unsatisfied ; 

And  silence  that  is  musical 

Y/ith  worrdless  songs — and  that  is  all ! 

All.     Yet  our  lives  may  ebb  and  flow, 
And  loves  may  come  and  loves  may  go, 
Nor  life,  nor  love  again  confess 
A  moment  of  such  perfectness. 
Life  may  be  long,  and  love  abide, 
Yet  neither  wholly  satisfied. 

Ah,  well !     All  this  is  past,  I  wean, 
And  harsh  thoughts  interpose  between. 
Yet  nought  can  ever  have  the  power 
To  dim  the  memory  of  that  hour — 
That  hour  so  full  of  all  life  brings 
To  hush  our  yearning  questionings. 

And  when  there  comes  the  unbidden  thought 

Of  you,  all  else  shall  be  forgot ; 

And  I  will  paint  you  with  the  grace 

Of  that  dear  hour  upon  your  face; 

A  grace  too  perfect  to  abide, 

Of  love  fulfilled  and  satisfied ! 


Epitome  of 


Theosophy,  the  Wisdom-Religion,  has  existed  from  immemorial  time.  It 
offers  us  a  theory  of  nature  and  of  life  which  is  founded  upon  knowledge  ac 
quired  by  the  Sages  of  the  past,  more  especially  those  of  the  East ;  and  its 
higher  students  claim  that  this  knowledge  is  not  something  imagined  or  inferred, 
but  that  it  is  seen  and  known  by  those  who  are  willing  to  comply  with  the  con 
ditions.  Some  of  its  fundamental  propositions  are  : 

i  — That  the  spirit  in  man  is  the  only  real  and  permanent  part  of  his  being  ; 
the  rest  of  his  nature  being  variously  compounded,  and  decay  being 
incident  to  all  composite  things,  everything  in  man  but  his  spirit  is 
impermanent. 

Further,  that  the  universe  being  one  thing  and  not  diverse,  and 
everything  within  it  being  connected  with  the  whole  and  with  every 
other,  of  which  upon  the  upper  plane,  above  referred  to,  there  is  a  per 
fect  knowledge,  no  act  or  thought  occurs  without  each  portion  of  the 
great  whole  perceiving  and  noting  it.  Hence  all  are  inseparably  bound 
together  by  the  tie  of  Brotherhood 

2. — That  below  the  spirit  and  above  the  intellect  is  a  plane  of  consciousness  in 
which  experiences  are  noted,  commonly  called  man's  "spiritual  nature"! 
this  is  as  susceptible  of  culture  as  his  body  or  his  intellect. 
3. — That  this  spiritual  culture  is  only  attainable  as  the  grosser  interests,  pas 
sions,  and  demands  of  the  flesh  are  subordinated  to  the  interests,  aspira 
tions,  and  needs  of  the  higher  nature  ;  and  that  this  is  a  matter  of  both 
system  and  established  law 

4. — That  men  thus  systematically  trained  attain  to  clear  insight  into  the 
immaterial,  spiritual  world,  their  interior  faculties  apprehending  Truth 
as  immediately  and  readily  as  physical  faculties  grasp  the  things  of  sense, 
or  mental  faculties  those  of  reason  ;  and  hence  that  their  testimony  to 
such  Truth  is  as  trustworthy  as  is  that  of  scientists  or  philosophers  to 
truth  in  their  respective  fields. 

5.— That  in  the  course  of  this  spiritual  training  such  men  acquire  perception  of 
and  control  over  various  forces  in  Nature  unknown  to  others,  and  thus 
are  able  to  perform  -works  usually  called  "miraculous,"  though  realty 
but  the  result  of  larger  knowledge  of  Natural  l*w^ 

6. — That  their  testimony  as  to  super-sensuous  truth,  verified  by  their  possession 
of  such  powers,  challenges  candid  examination  from  every  religious 
mind. 


Turning  »ow  to  the  system  expounded  by  these  Sages,  we  find  as  its  main 

points : — 

i.— An  account  of  cosmogony,  the  past  and  future  of  this  earth  and  other 
planets;  the  evolution  of  life  through  mineral,  vegetable,  animal  and  hu 
man  forms. 

2.— That  the  affairs  of  this  world  and  its  people  are  subject  to  cyclic  laws,  and 
that  during  any  one  cycle  the  rate  or  quality  of  progress  appertaining  to 
a  different  cycle  is  not  possible. 

3.— The  existence  of  a  universally  diffused  and  highly  ethereal  medium,  called 
the  "Astral  Light"  or  "  Akasa,"  which  is  the  repository  of  all  past, 
present  and  future  events,  and  which  records  the  effects  of  spiritual 
causes  and  of  all  acts  and  thoughts  from  the  direction  of  either  spirit  or 
matter.  It  may  be  called  the  Book  of  the  Recording  Angel. 

4. — The  origin,  history,  development  and  destiny  of  mankind. 
Upon  the  subject  of  Man  it  teaches: — 

i. — That  each  spirit  is  a  manifestation  of  the  One  Spirit,  and  thus  a  part  of  all. 
It  passes  through  a  series  of  experiences  on  incarnation,  and  is  destined 
to  ultimate  re-union  with  the  Divine. 

2. — That  this  incarnation  is  not  single  but  repeated,  each  individuality  becom 
ing  re-embodied  during  numerous  existences  in  successive  races  and 
planets,  and  accumulating  the  experiences  of  each  incarnation  towards  its 
perfection. 

3. — That  between  adjacent  incarnations,  after  grosser  elements  are  first  purged 
away,  comes  a  period  of  comparative  rest  and  refreshment,  the  spirit  be 
ing  therein  prepared  for  its  next  advent  into  material  life. 

4. — That  the  nature  of  each  incarnation  depends  upon  the  merit  and  demerit 
of  the  previous  life  or  lives,  upon  the  way  in  which  the  man  has  lived 
and  thought;  and  that  this  law  is  inflexible  and  wholly  just. 

5. — That  "  Karma," — a  term  signifying  two  things,  the  law  of  ethical  causation 
(Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap,)  and  the  balance  or 
excess  of  merit  or  demerit  in  any  individual,  determines  also  the  main  ex 
periences  of  joy  and  sorrow  in  each  incarnation,  so  that  what  men  call 
"  luck"  is  in  reality  "  desert", — desert  acquired  in  past  existence. 

6. — That  the  process  of  evolution  up  to  re-union  with  the  Divine  contemplates 
successive  elevations  from  rank  to  rank  of  power  and  usefulness,  the 
most  exalted  beings  still  in  the  flesh  being  known  as  Sages,  Rishees, 
Brothers,  Masters,  their  great  function  being  the  preservation  at  all 
times,  and,  when  cyclic  laws  permit,  the  extension,  of  spiritual  knowl 
edge  and  influence  among  humanity. 

y.-r-That  when  union  with  the  Divine  is  effected,  all  the  events  and  experiences 

of  each  incarnation  are  known;  * . 

As  to  the  process  of  spiritual  development  it  teaches: —  * 

i :— That  the  essence  of  the  process  lies  in  the  securing  of  supremacy  to  the 
highest,  the  spiritual,  element  of  man's  nature. 


2. — That  this  is  attained  along  four  lines,  among  others, — 

(a)    The  eradication  of  selfishness,  in  all  forms,  and  the  cultivation  of 
broad,  generous  sympathy  in  and  effort  for  the  good  of  others. 
(t)    The  cultivation  of  the  inner,  spiritual  man  by  meditation,  communion 
with  the  Divine,  and  exercise. 

(c)  The  control  of  fleshly  appetites  and  desires;    alllower,  material  interests 
being  deliberately  subordinated  to  the  behests  of  the  spirit. 

(d)  The  careful  performance  of  every  duty  belonging  to  one's  station  in  life, 
without  desire  for  reward,  leaving  results  to  Divine  law. 

3. — That  while  the  above  is  incumbent  on  and  practicable  by  all  religiously- 
disposed  men,  a  yet  higher  plane  of  spiritual  attainment  is  conditioned 
upon  a  specific  course  of  training  physical,  intellectual  and  spiritual,  by 
which  the  internal  faculties  are  first  aroused  and  then  developed. 

4. — That  an  extension  of  this  process  is  reached  in  Adeptship,  an  exalted  stage 
attained  by  laborious  self-discipline  and  hardship,  protracted  through  pos 
sibly  many  incarnations,  and  with  many  degrees  of  initiation  and  pre 
ferment,  beyond  which  are  yet  other  stages  ever  approaching  the  Divine. 
As  to  the  rationale  of  spiritual  development  it  asserts: — 

i. — That  the  process  is  entirely  within  the  individual  himself,  the  motive,  the 
effort,  the  result  being  distinctly  personal. 

2. — That,  however  personal  and  interior,  this  process  is  not  unaided,  being 
possible,  in  fact,  only  through  close  communion  with  the  Supreme  Source 
of  all  strength. 
As  to  the  degree  of  advancement  in  incarnations  it  holds: — 

i. — That  even  a  mere  intellectual  acquaintance  with  Theosophic  truth  has 
great  value  in  fitting  the  individual  for  a  step  upwards  in  his  next  earth- 
life,  as  it  gives  an  impulse  in  that  direction. 

2. — That  still  more  is  gained  by  a  career  of  duty,  piety  and  beneficence. 

3 .  — That  a  still  greater  advance  is  attained  by  the  attentive  and  devoted  use  of 

trie  means  to  spiritual  culture  heretofore  stated. 

It  may  be  added  that  Theosophy  is  the  only  system  of  religion  and  philos 
ophy  which  gives  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  such  problems  as  these: 

i. — The  object,  use,  and  inhabitation  of  other  planets  than  this  earth. 

2. — The  geological  cataclysms  of  earth;  the  frequent  absence  of  intermediate 
types  in  its  fauna;  the  occurrence  of  architectural  and  other  relics  of 
races  now  lost,  and  as  to  which  ordinary  science  has  nothing  but  vain 
conjecture ;  the  nature  of  extinct  civilizations  and  the  causes  of  their  ex 
tinction  ;  the  persistence  of  savagery  and  the  unequal  development  of 
existing  civilization  ;  the  differences,  physical  and  internal,  between  the 
various  races  of  men  ;  the  line  of  future  development. 

3. — The  contrasts  and  unisons  of  the  world's  faiths,  and  the  common  founda 
tion  underlying  them  all. 

4. — The  existence  of  evil,  of  suffering,  and  of  sorrow — a  hopeless  puzzle  to  the 
mere  philanthropist  or  theologian. 


5- — The  inequalities  in  social  condition  and  privilege  ;  the  sharp  contrasts  be 
tween  wealth  and  poverty,  intelligence  and  stupidity,  culture  and  ignor 
ance,  virtue  and  vileness  ;  the  appearance  of  men  of  genius  in  families 
destitute  of  it,  as  well  as  other  facts  in  conflict  with  the  law  of  heredity  ; 
the  frequent  cases  of  unfitness  of  environment  around  individuals,  so  sore 
as  to  embitter  disposition,  hamper  aspiration  and  paralyze  endeavor  ;  the 
violent  antithesis  between  character  and  condition  ;  the  occurrence  of  ac 
cident,  misfortune,  and  untimely  death — all  of  them  problems  solvable 
only  by  either  the  conventional  theory  of  Divine  caprice  or  the  Theo- 
sophic  doctrines  of  Karma  and  Reincarnation. 
6. — The  possession  by  individuals  of  psychic  powers — clairvoyance,  clairaudi- 

ence,  etc.,  as  well  as  the  phenomena  of  psychometry  and  statuvolism. 
7. — The  true  nature  of  genuine  phenomena  in  spiritualism,  and  the  proper  an 
tidote  to  superstition  and  to  exaggerated  expectation. 

8.: — The  failure  of  conventional  religions  to  greatly  extend  their  areas,  reform 
abuses,  re-organize  society,  expand  the  idea  of  brotherhood,  abate  dis 
content,  diminish  crime,  and  elevate  humanity  ;  and  an  apparent  inade 
quacy  to  realize  in  individual  lives  the  ideal  they  professedly  uphold. 
i . — That  of  intellectual  inquiry — to  be  met  by  works  in  Public  Libraries,  etc. 
2. — That  of  desire  for  personal  culture — to  be  met  partly  by  the  books  prepared 
for  that  specific  end,  partly  by  the  periodical  Magazines  expounding 
Theosophy. 

3 — That  of  personal  identification  with  the  Theosophical  Society,  an  associa 
tion  formed  in  1875  with  three  aims — to  be  the  nucleus  of  a  Universal 
Brotherhood  ;  to  promote  the  study  of  Aryan  and  other  Eastern  litera 
tures,  religions  and  sciences  ;  to  investigate  unexplained  laws  of  nature 
and  the  psychical  ppwers  latent  in  man.     Adhesion  to  the  first  only  is  a 
prerequisite  to  membership,  the    others  being  optional.    The  Society 
represents  no  particular  creed,  is  entirely  unsectarian,  and  includes  pro 
fessors  of  all  faiths,  only  exacting  from  each  member  that  toleration  of 
the  beliefs  of  others  which  he  desires  them  to  exhibit  towards  his  own. 
Membership  in  the  Theosophical  Society  may  be  either ' '  at  large"  or  in  a  lo 
cal  Branch.    Applications  for  membership  in  a  Branch  should  be  addressed  to 
th«  local  President  or  Secretary  ;  those  "at  large"  to  any  Branch  President  or 
to  the  General  Secretary,  Wm.  Q.  Judge,  144  Madison  Ave.,  New  York,  and  the 
latter  should  inclose  $2.00  for  entrance  fee  and  50  cents  for  diploma,  and$i.oo 
yearly  dues.    Information  as  to  organization  and  other  points  may  also  be 
obtained  from  Secretary  Pacific  Coast  Corporation,  Mercantile  Library  Building, 
San  Francisco. 

There  are  now,  1894,  one  hundred  Branches  in  the  United  States,  includ 
ing  all  the  principal  cities,  among  which  may  be  noted  New  York,  Philadel 
phia,  Chicago,  St.  Louis,  San  Francisco,  Los  Angeles,  Minneapolis,  Washing 
ton,  Cincinnati,  Boston,  Omaha,  San  Diego,  Denver,  Salt  Lake,  New  Orleans, 
etc. 


REINCARNATION. 

A  STUDY  OF  THE  HUO)Afl  SOUL 

IN   ITS  RELATION    TO   RE-BIRTH,    EVOLUTION,    POST-MORTEM 

STATES,  THE  COMPOUND  NATURE  OP  MAN, 

HYPNOTISM,  ETC. 

BY  JEROME  A.  ANDERSON,   M.  D.,  F.  T.  S. 


CONTENTS. 

INTRODUCTION.      The  Nature  and  Origin  of  the  Soul.     The  three 

Absolute  Hypostases — Consciousness,  Substance,  Force CHAPTER  I. — 

The  Physiological  Evidence  of  the  Existence  of  the  Soul. — No  Physiological 
Basis  for  the  Unity  of  Consciousness — Memory — Feeling,  Etc. — Mechanical 

Motion  Cannot  Originate  Sensation //. — The  Psychological  Evidence  of  the 

Existence  of  the    Soul. — The    Nature    of   Dream — Trance — Clairvoyance — 

Thought  Transference,  Etc HI.— The  Evolution  of  the  Soul.—The  Unit 

of  Consciousness — from   Atom  to  God   by  the  Widening  of   the    Conscious 

Area    Through     Experience,     Etc IV. —  The    Individualization     of    the 

Soul. — Centers  of  Consciousness  Freed  by   Pralayas — the  Cycle  of  Necessity 

V. — Reincarnation — Philosophic  and  Logical  Evidence. — Failure  of  One 

Birth  Theories — Life  only  to  be  Explained  Philosophically  by  Reincarna 
tion.  . . .  VI '. — Reincarnation — The  Scientific  Evidence. — Bulbs — Seeds — Met 
amorphosis  of  Insects — Genius — Idiocy — Prodigies,  Etc ....  VII. — The  Com 
posite  Nature  of  the  Soul. — The  Seven  Aspects  of  the  One  Center  of  Con 
sciousness.  . . .  VIII. — The  Reincarnating  Ego. — The  Nature  and  Functions 
of  the  Higher  Ego IX.— The  Personality.— The  Animal  Man— How  Re 
lated  to  the  Divine  Man ....  X. — Post-Mortem  States  of  Consciousness. — De- 

vachan — Kama    Loca  and  Nirvana — Nature  of XI. — Hypnotism  and  the 

Human  Soul. — Hypnotic  Processes  and  States  of  Consciousness.....^//. — 
Objections  to  Reincarnation. — Loss  of  Memory  Explained — Other  Objections 

Answered XIII. — Karma. — The  Law  of  Cause  and  Effect  on  all  Planes 

XIV.— Ethical  Conclusions.— APPENDIX  A.— Reincarnation   as  Applied 

to  the  Sex  Problem APPENDIX  B.— Embryology  and  Reincarnation  — 

The  Nutrition  of  the  Fetus. 

JPI^The  above  work,  containing  200  pages,  handsomely  bound, 
sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price: — 

Cloth,  (Blue  and  Gold,) $1.00. 

Same  in  Paper  Covers, .50. 

Address  the  Author, 

JEROME  A.  ANDERSON,  M.  D., 

1170  Market  St.,  San  Francisco,  Gal. 


THKOSOPHY. 

The  Pacific  Coast  Committee  for  Theosophic  work  has 
opened  a  Repository  of  Books  at  the  Theosophical  Headquarters, 
Mercantile  Library  Building,  San  Francisco. 

Experience  indicates  the  following  as  a  good  series  of  books  in  a  preliminary 
course  : 

What  is  Theosophy  ?    Besant-Olds $     .35 

Short  Glossary  of  Theosophical  Terms, 

cloth,  750  ;  paper 50 

Theosophy  and  its  Evidences,  A.  Besant 10 

Wilkesbarre  Letters  on  Theosophy,  Alex.  Fullerton 10 

Echoes  from  the  Orient,  W.  Q.  Judge 50 

Ocean  of  Theosophy,  W.  Q.  Judge i.oo 

Seven  Principles  of  Man,  Annie  Besant 35 

Reincarnation,  Dr.  J.  A.  Anderson, i  .00 

Death  and  After,  Annie  Besant 35 

Reincarnation,  Annie  Besant 35 

Letters  that  Have  Helped  Me,  Jasper  Neimand 50 

Voice  of  the  Silence,  H.  P.  Blavatsky 75 

Bhagavad  Gita  (pocket  edition,  morocco),  W.  Q.  Judge i  .00 

Esoteric  Buddhism,  A.  P.  Sinnett i  .00 

The  Key  to  Theosophy,  H.  P.  Blavatsky i  .50 

Isis  Unveiled,  2  vols 7 . 50 

The  Secret  Doctrine,  2  vols i«-5o 

In  addition  to  the  above  the  following  is  a  partial  list  of  books  which  will  also 
be  sent  post-paid  on  receipt  of  price.     Complete  lists,  including  many  leaflets 

and  cheap  but  very  useful  tracts,  papers  by  Oriental  Pundits,  sent  on  applica 
tion:— 

Addresses  at  American  Convention,  Chicago,  April,  1892 20 

Adventure  Among  the  Rosicrucians,  F.  Hartman cloth,  750;  paper,       .50 

Astral  Light,  Nizida 75 

A  Rough  Outline  of  Theosophy,  Besant 10 

A  Study  of  Man,  Dr.  J.  D.  Buck 2.50 

Bhagavad  Gita,  Mohini's  Translation  and  Notes 2.00 

Burial  Service 50 

Buddhism,  Rhys  Davids i.oo 

Buddhist  Catechism  (H.  S.  Olcott) 40 

Blossom  and  the  Fruit,  M.  C.  Cloth,  $1.00;  paper, 40 

Buddhist  Diet  Book -.       .50 

Christos,  J.  D.  Buck 75 

Divine  Pymander,  Hermes  Trismegistus 3.00 

Discourses  on  the  Bhagavad  Gita,  Subba  Row 75 


Dreams  and  Dream  Stories,  Kingsford,  Cloth,  $1.00;  paper 50 

Dreams  of  the  Dead,  Stanton.     Paper,  500;  cloth i  .00 

Five  Years  of  Theosophy 5.00 

From  the  Caves  and  Jungles  of  Hindoostan,  H .  B.  Blavatsky 2.50 

Gems  from  the  East,  a  Birthday  Book,  H.  P.  Blavatsky i.oo 

Guide  to  Theosophy i.oo 

History  of  the  Rosicrucians,  Waite 2.50 

Incidents  in  the  Life  of  Madame  Blavatsky,  A.  P.  Sinnett 3.00 

Life  and  Doctrines  of  Jacob  Boehme,  Hartman 2.50 

Life  of  Buddha,  Lillie 2.00 

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Neila  Sen,  A  Novel i .00 

Nine  Months  at  T.  S.  Headquarters,  Franz  Hartman 75 

Nightmare  Tales,  H .  P.  B 35 

Numbers;  Their  Occult  Power  and  Mystic  Virtue 1.25 

OCEAN  OF  THEOSOPHY  (New),  Wm.  Q.  Judge.     Paper,  SQC;  cloth    i.oo 

Occult  Science  in  India,  Jaccolliot 3-00 

Paracelsus,  Franz  Hartman.     Paper,  500  ;  cloth i.oo 

Pearls  of  Faith,  Edwin  Arnold i  .00 

Philosophy  of  Mysticism,  Du  Prel  7-5° 

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Principles  of  Astrological  Geomancy,  Hartman i.oo 

Posthumus  Humanity,  D'Assier.    Cloth 2 . 50 

Problems  of  the  Hidden  Life,  Pilgrim ' : i .75 

Psychometry  and  Thought  Transference 30 

Purpurses  of  Theosophy,  Mrs.  A .  P.  Sinnett.    Paper 15 

Reincarnation,  E.  D.  Walker.     Cloth,  $1,00;  paper 50 

REINCARNATION  (NEW),  DR.  J.  A.  ANDERSON.    Cloth,  $1.00;  paper      .50 

Sankhya  Karika,  with  commentary 1.25 

Sources  of  Measure,  Skinner 5.00 

Through  the  Gates  of  Gold 50 

The  Nature  and  Aim  of  Theosophy,  Dr.  J.  D.  Buck .     Cloth 75 

The  Occult  World,  A.  P.  Sinnett i  .00 

Theosophy,  Religion  and  Occult  Science,  H.  S.  Olcott 2.00 

The  Perfect  Way,  Kingsford  and  Maitland.     Cloth,  $1,00;  paper 50 

Transactions  of  Blavatsky  Lodge.     Paper,  No.  i,  500;  No.  2 35 

Theosophical  Glossary,  H.  P.  Blavatsky 3.50 

The  Mystic  Quest,  William  Kingsland. ' ...  T !..'...' i.oo 

The  Life  of  the  Buddha,  Early  History  of  the  Order.    Translated  by 

•  •  • '    Rockhill 3.00 

1 « Wonder  Light  and  Other  Stories,"  for  Children,  J.  Campbell  Ver  Planck      .50 


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Any  of  the  above  books,  as  well  as  the  periodicals  below,  may  be  obtained 
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cantile  Library  Building,  San  Francisco. 


.  Periodicals. 

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Price  per  annum. 

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"  Pacific  Theosophist, ' i.oo 

THE 

OGEJIN  *  OF  *  THKOSOPHV 

— BY — 

WM.  Q.  JUDGE,  F.  T.  S. 

This  work  is  designed  to  give  the  general  reader  some  knowlege  of  the  most 
important  Theosophical  Doctrines,  and  at  the  same  time  it  will  be  of  great 
value  to  students  in  the  Theosophical  Society.  It  contains  seventeen  chapters 
and  gives  a  clear  idea  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  Wisdom  Religion. 
The  following  is  a  brief  synopsis  of  the  book: 

Chapter  I  deals  with  the  general  aspects  of  Theosophy,  and  that  ever-inter 
esting  subject,  the  MASTERS Chap.  II — Is  a  concise  presentation  of  Evolu 
tion  and  its  records  in  ancient  chronologies. ..  .Chap.  Ill — Deals  with  our 
Earth  more  particularly — shows  its  septenary  nature,  and  its  relation  to  other 
planets  of  our  plane. . .  .Chap.  IV — Applies  this  septenary  division  to  man,  and 
deals  with  his  "  Principles"  in  a  general  way. . .  .Chap  V — Takes  up  the  Body 
and  Astral  Body ....  Chap.  VI — Examines  the  nature  of  Kama ....  Chap.  VI I — 
Of  Manas,  or  the  Thinking  Principle;  all  together,  forming,  perhaps,  the  clear 
est  explanation  yet  written  of  the  nature  and  functions  of  these  Principles .... 
Chaps.  VIII ,  IX  and  X  deal  with  Reincarnation  and  its  evidences ....  Chap.  XI — 
With  Karma.... Chaps.  XII  and  XIII— With  Post-Mortem  Existence.... 

Chap.  XIV— With  Cycles Chap.  XV— With  the  Derivation  of  Man,  the 

Apes,  etc. . .  .Chaps.  XVI  and  XVII— With  Psychic  Force,  "Spiritualism,"  and 
allied  topics. 

Cloth,  $1.00;  paper,  500. 

Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price.. 

THE  JPPTTH, 

144  Madison  Avenue,  N«w  York. 
Or,  THE  P.  C.  COMMITTEE,  Mercantile  Library  Building,  San  Francisco. 


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